To Steal
by chercherlecirque
Summary: Draco is on the run from the ministry. Hermione is an expert on magical crime. When Draco steals out of boredom and Hermione gets his case, what will happen? Better than this sounds. Contains obscene language.
1. The Discovery of Draco's Hobby

Carefully, he slipped his enchanted knife behind the painting, cutting the alarm wires that were attached to the back. The painting then easily came off the wall, and he swiftly pried the canvas out of the frame, carefully replacing it with a fake. He hung the painting back up, _reparo_'d the alarm wires, and took off down the marble halls with in a swift trot.

When he passed a bathroom, he skidded to a stop. He grinned. An \idea began to form. He was already tempting fate, why the hell not? He walked into the bathroom. The automatic lights flickered on. Nonchalantly, he made his way into a stall, locking the door behind him. He crouched in a corner, rendering himself invisible from the lone surveillance camera.

He then disapparated, grinning like a madman and feeling absolutely delicious.

Oh, yes. Draco Malfoy just loved fucking with people. And when you had a flair for the dramatic and nothing to loose, it made it all the sweeter.

oOo

"Recent evidence has come to light that the theft of more than four-hundred works of Muggle art from around the world has likely been the work of witches or wizards unknown," Hermione Granger proclaimed to a room full of Aurors and several people in the departments of International Magical Relations and Magical Law Enforcement.

"Muggle security cameras in the Van Gough Museum, located in Amsterdam, show footage of some bloke waltzing through the museum at night, pinching the painting, walking into a bathroom and simply disappearing. Additionally, after replacing the painting with a flawless reproduction, the wires that he had cut with a knife were repaired to their former state. The entire night-time staff at the museum were unconscious during the fifteen minute duration of the hoist, and all security on individual paintings had been turned off."

People in the room began mumbling to each other, not disrespectfully, but simply because humans can only stand to stay silent for a certain length of time. Especially when information pertinent to their lives was being bestowed on them. Hermione raised her voice slightly.

"Since the Dutch Council of Magiks is being, pardon my French, a bunch of stubborn, lazy and presumptuous arse-faces, we have to deal with this."

The conversation in the room increased.

"They have somehow discerned," she scowled, "from a mere fifteen minutes of gritty tape and a crime scene investigation, that the wizard was in fact British. Thus, they have delegated the bulk of the investigation to us."

Groans of protest were heard. It was Monday, and not only did they have to sit through one of Hermione Granger's infamous lectures, but it was also quickly becoming clear that they would have to tread the murky waters of the Muggle world and international politics.

She was merciless.

"The man has stolen 'Starry Night', the magnum opus of Van Gough, a highly revered Dutch painter and a Squib. The painting is venerated by the Dutch, and the Council of Magiks, through some rather shady methods, has managed to keep this from the claws of the media."

Mutterings of acquiescence were heard; it was common knowledge that the Belgian, Dutch, and French Magical governments were extremely corrupt.

"My personal staff has closely examined the recent bulge in the art-theft rate, and we have determined that most of the fliching is the work of this wizard. He's a sort of serial-art thief. Our psychiatric witch and profiler, Mrs. Unhorn," she nodded at a woman with black hair and green robes, "has informed me that the most likely reason for the crimes of this man is likely a sort of adrenaline rush, which is why he left the cameras on and the night crew unharmed. She also believes, that if this fact is true, we can be expecting his thievery to enter the magical world soon," she said, doubt lacing her voice.

From the lowly secretaries to the Minister himself, anyone in the Ministry of Magic knew about the feud between Evangeline Unhorn and Hermione Granger. Both were extremely relevant in many cases, one as a psychologist, the other as an expert in Magical Crime. Both of them would go to any length to prove the other wrong, and they would stoop to almost any methods to do so.

The reasons for this were rather personal. Hermione thought that psychology was primarily unfounded poppycock that required almost nothing but the ability to bullshit your way through anything. Unhorn was rather pissed off that a mere twenty four year old witch held such sway in the Ministry, when she herself had rose to her position and level of influence after a lengthy forty years of bartering and blackmail. Upon their first meeting, their strong personalities had clashed, and a rivalry nearing the legendry of Slytherin and Griffindor had been born.

"Why does this bloke have a fetish for Muggle art?" Nathanial Wuthers asked with cheeky charm, causing several people to chuckle.

"We're not sure," she said. "None of the objects we believe he has stolen are at all relatable. Not all of them are worth millions, nor are they all from a certain time period or artist, and they aren't in similar styles or have similar subject. There are statues, jewelry, paintings, photographs, and a few historical artifacts. It seems to be a matter of personal preference."

The short and boyish man lying down on a bench in the corner spoke up. "Just how much contact will we be having with Muggle Authorities?"

She frowned slightly, both at the question and at the manner in which he was lounging. She let both of them slide. "It will be minimal. Mr. Niwer, Head of Nonwizard Relations has graciously offered someone to do most of the negotiating with the higher ups. That'll give us clearance to everything else. A re-examination of all the scenes will be required, so a few of you will be traveling."

"This thief," said Natalia Chimbero peevishly, "how do we even know he is British? Or rather, how does the Dutch Council of Magiks claim to know he is British?"

She waved her hand at the comment, already accepting that they were going to have to take on this case. "Something about the trace amounts of English aftershave they found at the scene and the style of shoes he was wearing. If you want the specifics, you'll have to check the insanely long, driveling list of bollocks they sent through their embassy this morning. I'm having one of the secretaries lift out relevant facts from political simpering right now, but it'll be finished tomorrow at the earliest."

This did not sit well, and a patriotic edge came into the usual Monday grumbling. The Aurors and specialists nursed their cups of coffee, a few of which were spiked with a little something extra as the meeting continued. Their Marvelous Leader showed them the Muggle security tapes, and after another round of questioning, everyone shuffled back to their offices to begin their prospective tasks.

Hermione was actually excited about this case; as opposed to her coworkers, who just saw it as a pile of work. It was interesting. The thief was not stupid, but rather complex. He stole precious works of art, and he would've come away completely unscathed, she knew. The footage of him at the museum was simply because he suddenly felt the need to smear his success in everyone's faces, like a toddler smearing mud across the face of his the child who stole his treacle.

She had been granted some of the best from all of the departments, simply because of the scope of the burglary. Over four hundred pieces of art from various museums, private collections and bank vaults were no simple kidnapping. The fact that they were required to interact heavily with Muggles also came into play. Although she herself had absolutely no problems with this, she knew that many of the people she worked with were completely alienated by Muggles.

That morning's materials in her hands, she made her way back from the meeting room to her office. An enormous pile of reports on various thefts still sat on her desk, waiting for her to go through it.

When she opened her door, she dropped everything she was holding and nearly hexed the unidentified man sitting behind her desk. However, she allowed a moment of examination before she immobilized the intruder in the most painful way possible.

"You great sodding idiot! Do you have any bloody idea what I would've done to you? What I should do to you, for being such a pompous prick! Oh, don't look at me like that. I know _exactly _what it takes to get into my office uninvited, and that isn't just shagging my secretary."

He laughed.

"You've still got that Auror mouth on you, haven't you?"

She rolled her eyes. A flick of her wand, and all her notes and reports flew from the floor back into her arms. Hermione carried them to her desk and plopped them down unceremoniously in front of him.

"I've spent half of my life surrounded constantly by men. I'm not impervious to everything, Harry. Besides," she sniffed, "It's a form of self expression. And you shouldn't be breaking into the office of an expert on Magical Crime."

"Yeah…that last stinging ward you had up was particularly nasty, 'Mione." He stood up and hugged her, giving her a brotherly kiss on the cheek.

"Hello to you too," she muttered into his chest as she wrapped her arms around him. Her attitude belayed the fact that she was pleased to see him. The last time they had spent time together had been at a charity event last week, and she missed her friend. They had been virtually inseparable since the age of eleven. When the war against Voldemort had ended and the Goldon Trio had been forced to go their separate ways at the age of twenty, the first few weeks had been nightmarish.

Hermione sat down on a chair in her spacious office. She couldn't help but notice that Harry was virtually bubbling excitement, his boyish expression slightly strange behind his glasses and against the backdrop of his prematurely salt-and-pepper hair.

"I have good news for you," he blurted.

She raised an eyebrow. "Shoot."

"Luna's pregnant."

Hermione was momentarily rendered speechless. "That's…that's excellent. Congratulations."

"I know…" he beamed, a faraway look stealing onto his face.

"I thought women were supposed to glow during pregnancy, Harry," she teased.

He scowled, she laughed. They talked for a few minutes, catching up on the last few days, mentioning mutual acquaintances. It was then that he noticed the amount of parchment and paper in her piled around her workspace was probably equivalent to a small forest.

"Merlin, Hermione. Is all this stuff for one case?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "They've actually given me some thing proper to work on, for once, instead of some imbecile hexing his Auntie Jane for her pearls."

"Whoever this is, they've been busy. It's not some murderer, is it?" he asked, his face darkening.

"No, no." She was quick to reassure him. "Some wizard has been stealing Muggle works of art."

"Must be crazy," he remarked off-handedly.

oOo

Draco smirked smugly to himself. The tanned brunette was whispering some enticing suggestions in his ear. They were made all the more sexy by the fact that her voice was low and husky, and she happened to be crooning in French.

He adored the French, not that he would ever admit that to anyone, even his French grandmother. They had long ago perfected many arts. The art of cooking, the art of fashion, and has he had discovered in his teenage years, the art of loving. There was just something automatically sultry about all the petite French women with their throaty voices and understated sensuality. Although, this one was proving to be quite the minx. He playfully pinched her, and she laughed against his neck as she ran her fingers down his chest.

Currently, he was in Nizza. His skin had already acquired a slight golden tone. And right now he was sitting on the veranda of his top-notch on the waterfront hotel, a pleasing package in his lap as he sipped his scotch.

Any completely sane man would've currently devoted all their attention to the woman in their lap, but not Draco Malfoy. For several reasons. He knew women enjoyed foreplay, and he was not as callous as to just take her to his room and pound her into his bed. No, he had too much class and too much experience for that. His mind was also preoccupied vaguely with the blatant 'Bugger you!' he had given the Ministry at his last heist.

It was too boring, pulling of a series of perfect crimes, and never being recognized or pursued. Where was the glory if it was only in your own mind? Were was the thrill if you knew you weren't going to get caught? He knew the Golden Trio worked at the Ministry, a along with several other people he wasn't fond of. His father had familiarized him with the workings of the ministry at a young age, and he knew that at least one department would've been whipped into a tizzy by now. He had paid off the proper people in the Council of Magiks to make sure that his crime was recognized by his fellow British countrymen.

Suddenly, he felt a slight twinge in his mind. The alarm that people were tugging on the wards on his ancestral home, Malfoy Manor. He half scowled, half grinned. They had been quick, but this was rather annoying. He would have to completely abandon the lovely Mina. Gently, he pushed her off his lap standing up from the armchair. A few Muggle banknotes left on the table paid for his scotch. With an 'Au revoir', and a trek to the hotel later, Draco Malfoy was apparating to Sussex, England.

The ministry had long ago discerned the actual location of Malfoy Manor, even with an Unplottable Charm and a Secret Keeper. When the three brats who saved the Wizarding World were held in your basement for a week, there was little you could do. Draco had been able to secure extensive wards when the manor had been magically passed on to him during the middle of his war after his father's death. It had morphed to fit his needs, as the Manor did for each of it's owners. The magic of the centuries old manor, enchantments put in place with the help of handsomely paid experts, and the effort of Draco Malfoy kept the ministry out. He was hardly their main concern. They knew he was alive, or the manor would've passed to his Scottish cousin twice removed. But he was not openly active in the still slightly chaotic wizarding world, and thus he was not a very high priority. That didn't mean he didn't get weekly or bi-weekly alerts that the persistent ministry was poking at his wards. Good thing he was stubborn.

He had made his destination the top of the Gargoyle on the roof for a reason. As he perched on the highest vantage point, he was free to look around the extensive grounds. With the help of an eyesight spell, he noticed the intruder almost immediately. Surprisingly, it wasn't a battalion of Aurors and a lazy supervisor, but rather a single person.

She was sitting by the front gates on the edge of the wards, where they mixed slightly with the Muggle world. Her delicate figure was cross-legged and her eyes were closed as she waved her wand and chanted. Granger. If he hadn't seen pictures of her in the Daily Prophet, he wouldn't have recognized her with her hair so long and dark and without her school uniform. Slightly curious but detached, he made his way closer, knowing she couldn't see him. Suddenly, there was a large CRACK and she was toppled onto her back. A slight cloud of magical residue from the combined backlash of her spell and the wards floated around her.

Draco watched her for several minutes before he began grumbling under his breath. She hadn't regained consciousness. It was starting to drizzle. He debated mentally. She worked for the Ministry. She was helpless. She was an old enemy. She was a lady, sort of. She had been tortured by his Aunt in his basement. He sighed. _Might as well make up for it, Draco._ He threw a stupefy at her for good measure before picking her up. It just wouldn't do to have her waking up in the middle of everything. That would be incredibly sloppy. Malfoys were never sloppy.

oOo

Hermione groaned, bringing her hands to her head. Damn Malfoy. Damn his stupid manor. Damn his bloody unbreachable wards. Wait. What had happened? She panicked mentally as she went over her memories in the darkness of her closed eyes. She had been attempting a complex magical neutralizing spell that had been recently proposed by a German wizard. Then, there was a loud noise and a flash of color and then…nothing. For a moment, she was scared to open her eyes. She reminded herself that she was unbound and feeling perfectly fine. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and opened her eyes.

The ceiling was gold, she noticed. How nice. Gold and cream, with simple but elegant molding. Classy. Old-fashioned classy. Snobby classy. She sat up slowly, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. She was wearing a long cotton nightgown. She was wandless, she suddenly realized. But there was no one else in the room. Uneasily, she slipped out from underneath the covers. Her feet landed on plush carpet as she took in the expensively generic room. She half expected someone to burst through the door as she studiously examined her surroundings. There was a letter on the nightstand.

It was in a cream envelope made of thick paper, and heavy. Granger was scrawled on the front in messily elegant handwriting. She frowned, opening it with her finger.

_Granger,_

_I'll give you credit, that neutralizing spell was quite good. Sorry, my wards were better. You passed out from the magical rebound. Idiot, why were you there all alone? Don't underestimate the enemy. Never mind, I'll not concern myself with that. _

_I have saved your life. From magical backlash and pneumonia and possible mauling by bear or rape or something nasty. That constitutes a magical debt. Don't worry, the cost of the hotel room won't be added. I've paid them quite handsomely, feel free to order anything. The eggs benedict are divine. In case you're wondering, you're in the Westin Palace hotel in Madrid. I'm too conspicuous in England, so enjoy the sunshine. You could use some._

_I'll let you know when I want to call in that debt. Perhaps when I see you next, I'll even be nice and return your wand. And stay away from the manor. Can't you accept something's beyond you for once?_

It had been signed only with a large M. She knew who it was, and as she read the letter her rage escalated till it escaped in a furious screech. Hermione attempted to chuck the letter across the room, but it merely floated a few feet. Incensed, she grabbed the thing nearest to her.

Pillows, bedding, and the maroon lampshade flew across the room. She tipped over a chair, and then kicked the mahogany wardrobe. Her foot stung from the impact, and Hermione lowered herself onto the couch. Breathing heavily, she tried to think a way out of her predicament. No wand, no money. In Spain. Her Spanish was rudimentary at best, but she knew quite a few people spoke French here.

There was a timid knock on the door.

She reached for her wand, wanting to clean up the mess. Then, reality came rushing back, and she called "Come in."

A small Spanish girl in a traditional maid outfit opened the door. "Senorita?"

"Erm…habla usted ingles?"

She smiled shyly. "Yes, senorita."

Malfoy had told her to order anything; he'd no doubt paid for the whole room with his extensive inheritance. And if he hadn't done anything to her yet, she'd hardly be poisoned. Besides, she needed the fuel. "I'd like breakfast."

"What can I get for senorita?"

"Hot cakes, sausage, some peppermint tea….and, oh why the hell not, eggs benedict. And some fruit salad please."

"Yes, senorita. Right away."

When the second knock on her door came, the rage induced destruction was cleaned up and Hermione was dressed in the clothes she had been wearing yesterday. She had found them in the armoire, and almost flew into another rage over the fact that Malfoy had changed her. Now, she was just feeling slightly out of place in the five star hotel in what was obviously a suite. Her jeans and sweatshirt did not exactly match the décor.

The maid came in, pushing a trolley. She was followed by a dignified sliver haired man in a business suit. As she began putting the covered dishes on the table, the man addressed Hermione.

"Senorita Gryffindor, allow me to introduce myself. I am Carlos Grizollo, concierge of the hotel. The Senor Salazar who paid for your rooms has asked me to inform you that all expenses have been paid for the next two days. He has also requested that I give you this." From behind his back, the man pulled out a flat velvet case. It looked like something that would hold an expensive necklace.

"Gracias, Senor Grizollo," she answered with a wry smile as she took the offered case. Malfoy had obviously enjoyed himself tremendously with the names.

He nodded regally. "Is there anything we can get you, Senorita?"

"No, not at the moment. Thank you," she said idly. Delicious smells were wafting fron the dishes the maid had brought. Hermione realized she was ravenous. Well-trained servants, the maid and Senor Grizollo exited the room as she sat down to start eating brunch.

After gorging herself on food, her curiosity returned. The case lay on the table next to her plate, and she warily opened it. There was another note inside, in the same handwriting. Next to it lay a pair of extremely old fashioned round sunglasses with brown lenses.

_These glasses are a portkey. Unregistered, of course. They're good for the Muggle ministry entrance till tonight. _

Scowling, she slammed the case closed before marching down to the lobby to check herself out.

oOo

Harry Potter entered Hermione's office the two days later. This time, he was invited. He didn't know why he was invited, but of course he came. When he arrived, she was sitting behind her desk, staring off into space.

"He's good, you know."

Harry sank into the chair he had occupied earlier. "Good?" he asked, confused.

"Yes. Very good. Thinks of everything. I'm starting to see why he's been able to avoid us for so long."

Harry was slightly uncomfortable. "Who are we talking about?"

Hermione sighed. "Promise you won't get angry with me if I tell you, Harry?"

Hesitantly, he nodded.

And so Hermione told him everything. How she went to have a go at the notorious wards on Malfoy Manor after managing all the paper work on her present case. Testing out the new spell. Waking up in Madrid. Everything.

Her best friend had been quiet as she talked, and she couldn't help but think that he was more confused than when she started. _Well, join the club, _she thought grumpily.

"Let me get this straight. You went to Malfoy Manor _alone _to try and get the wards down with some new spell. Then you blacked out and woke up in Madrid?" He sounded doubtful.

"Yes, Harry," she snapped. "If you think I've gone bonkers, I'll show you the fucking notes. I still have them." She flicked them across the desk at him.

A slight frown on his face, the hero of the wizarding world read both the lengthier letter and the short note that had come with the Portkey.

"Eggs benedict?" he asked, peeved.

"They were good," she shrugged.

"And he still has your wand?" Harry growled.

"Yes. I've procured a replacement, but that slimy git still has my wand. If I ever catch him with it, I'll hex him back into his mother's vagina."

"Ugh, just what we needed. Everything is starting to get settled, and then Malfoy shows up."

"I know it's inopportune Harry. I have a huge case I need to work on, never mind what will happen if the Prophet ever gets a hold of this mess. Or anyone at the Ministry, for that matter. I'm…at loss for what to do." Admitting that she had no idea how to handle the situation made her feel useless.

"Honestly, I have no clue what to do either, 'Mione. And when you don't know what to do…the best thing to do is nothing. At least for the time being."

She grimaced. "That doesn't make me feel better, Harry."

"Me neither. I'll tell you what, I'll send in an anonymous tip that I've seen Malfoy in Madrid. That'll get some more Aurors looking for him."

Hermione relaxed slightly. "Thanks Harry. That makes me feel better."

He grinned at her. "That's why I'm your friend."

oOo

"Yes, he was actually British," Natalia Chimbero told Hermione later that day. Recently returned from the Netherlands, she was even more prickly than usual. "However, when I talked to their Forensics Wizard and performed spells on the scene myself there was nothing. Nothing besides the bloody style of his shoes. When I talked to the head of the Investigative Department, well…he was rather nervous."

"You think someone paid him off?"

Chimbero nodded. "The bloke who gave him the equivalent of thirty thousand galleons was British. It's safe to assume our thief is, too. Or at least from the UK, but we have clearance over the whole continent with a case this big."

"Can you get one of the secretaries to do a retrieval spell on all the files? All males of British origin between the ages of 17 and 50 that have been active in magical theft." As she spoke, a purple Ministry memo zoomed in through the door. The edges were flashing red, indicating it was an urgent matter.

"I need to open this, one second," Hermione told Natalia.

**Ms. Granger,**

**There has been a theft that we suspect related to your case. **

**Location: Muggle Gdansk, Poland**

**Stolen: 1931 Bugatti Royale Type 41**

** Muggle Value: 7,301,285 Euros **

**Owner: Florjan Monskowski, CEO of Tyskie Beer **

**A ministry arranged portkey is waiting for you in the Office of Transportation. Please pick it up within the next hour. A translator will be on scene.**

"Fabulous," she groaned. "Chimbero, you're going to have to travel again. Don't worry, we're just hopping the channel to Poland for a few hours. Can you go find Wuthers? I'm going to get Hammstien. I'll meet you at the Office of Transportation in twenty minutes. Bring everything you need." Chimbero stalked out of her office, and Hermione set about gathering her supplies. She transfigured her robes into respectable Muggle clothing, and grabbed the Muggle authority badges they had gotten from the Department of Non-Wizard Relations. She grabbed her coffee as she walked out the door to look for Hammstein.

Wuthers, Chimbero, Hammstein and Hermione made up the squad. Each had a different area of expertise. Wuthers was the muscle, a highly trained and experienced Auror as well as a black belt in tae kwon do. Even though his profession was grim, he was constantly cheery. Chimbero was an expert in forensics magic, and opposite of Wuthers in disposition. She was never in a good mood and constantly bitchy. Hammstein had schooling was in politics, both Muggle and Wizarding. He was the one who got them past the yellow tape and told them whom to maneuver for needed results. Hermione was the leader, a slight mash-up of all the others on top of an innovative and determined mind that was fountain of knowledge.

She knocked on the door to Hammstein's office, a mere formality. Without waiting for a response, she opened it. The bespectacled ginger was lounging behind his desk and looking into the screen of a Muggle laptop.

"Hammstein," she barked. "We're going. Poland. Some CEO got his fancy toy car stolen. Hop to it, the blasted hunk of metal is worth more than all of our houses combined."

Indolently, he got up off his desk chair. As he began shoving what he needed into a briefcase, Hermione orated further instructions.

"He's Muggle, so get out of those robes. I heard the man's involved with some politician's daughter, so we're going to have a hell of a time keeping this out of the papers. But we can't Obliviate, the wanker has already gone to Muggle authorities. I hope you know your way around the Polish Muggle government, because we're going to have to pull some serious strings." She paused and took a sip of her coffee.

"Too bad we can't just Imperio the lot of them," she mumbled in a temper, only half joking. War was a lot more convenient when it came to illegal curses.

Hammstein grinned. "I don't see why you're so worked up. You're not the one that has to tell the Muggles how a car vanished into thin air."

"Yeah, yeah. We have to be at the Office of Transportation," she checked her watch, "in thirteen minutes. Anything you need to pick up?"

"Nope," he said as he shoved his laptop into his enchanted bottomless briefcase. I'm good to go. Oh wait, my robes."

"I'll take care of it." Hermione put her bag on one of the chairs in his office, and pulled out her wand.

"New wand?" he asked curiously.

"Shut your goddamn mouth before I do it for you." Her wand transfigured his tan work robes into a navy business suit. Because she was feeling vindictive, she gave him a neon green tie. Swiftly, she picked up her bag and took a sip of coffee. "C'mon, let's go. I have to talk to Chimbero and Wuthers before we Portkey to Poland."

They made their way toward the elevator. In the ministry, the elevators did not have different levels on the buttons; rather, they had the names of the department or place you wanted to visit. Hermione pushed the button for the Office of Transportation, and she and Hammstein arrived there a few seconds later. Wuthers and Chimbero were already waiting.

"Nice tie," Wuthers grinned when he saw Hermione's work.

Hammstein rolled his eyes and tapped the tie with his wand. It turned into a respectable red and black pattern.

"Both of you need to get into Muggle garb," Hermione told Wuthers and Chimbero. When they were wearing another business suit and lab coat respectively, Hermione gave them all the necessary reminders.

"No wands till I say so. Let me and Hammstein do the talking till we get to the scene. If you slip up and absolutely have to Obliviate someone, well fine. Just don't do a shoddy job, or the Minister will have our heads. And please, be discreet. Not like last time. Oh, here are the new Muggle Authority badges Niwer gave us. Read them, so you actually know what your job is supposed to be." She handed them out, and they all studied theirs.

They got their Portkey, a crumpled piece of paper, and were promptly on their way to Poland.

oOo

When they arrived at the mansion, they found a tall blonde man talking to the squib they recognized as the Ministry translator. He looked like he was about to piss in his pants. When he saw them, he squeaked in relief.

"These are the experts we were waiting for, sir."

Hermione automatically assumed the man was the CEO of the Tyskie beer company. He had the confidence that came with all successful business people. When he introduced himself, it only cemented her assumption.

"Hello, Ms. Granger." He reached out his hand to shake hers, and she obliged. His English only had a very slight accent. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Florjan Monskowski. I hope you can tell me what happened to my car."

Catching the subtle threat, Hermione forced a smile. "I'm sure we will, sir. If you could show us the place where your car was kept, please?"

He led them to a garage that was also home to several other cars, including a Ferrari, a Land Rover, a Rolls Royce, a Prius, and a Porsche. There was an empty space between the Ferrari and the Rolls Royce. When she explained to the owner that the needed privacy to work their methods, he protested. Hermione asked that he take them to look at the security cameras. With the reminder of his secrurity system, Manskowski left Chimbro and Wuthers in his garage, taking Hermione and Hammstein. He relaxed slightly, chatting with Hammstein about politics and marketing revenues. Hermione examined the several costly pieces of artwork they passed in the modern home. A lucky coincidence, Monskowski was called away shortly after they entered the room that housed the security instruments.

The tapes held nothing. At three forty seven in the morning, all of the fifteen cameras around the house went on static until three fifty. When they came back on, the car had vanished. The tapes were all blank and there was no data to be recovered from the system. Chimbero had discovered magical remnants of a shrinking spell and Apparation at the scene, but there was no useful material. The Theif had obviously Apprated in, shrunk the car, and Disapparted. Disgusted by the lack of progress, Hermione ordered her team to pack up and head back to England. Only Hammstein stayed in Poland to talk to the Polish Parliament of Magic, as well as the Muggle Polish government.

Hermione gave herself the evening off. It was high time she started looking for her wand. She'd be careful, this time. Maybe if it was still in Malfoy's possession, she'd even get to take the asshole in. Oh, revenge would be sweet.

oOo

Malfoy felt the notice that someone was messing with his wards again. He scowled. It was only three days later, and he really didn't fancy another trip to England. Rolling up the blue prints he had been looking at, Malfoy apparated to his Manor.

When he got there, he was slightly surprised. There was no one there, but huge glowing l pink letters covered half his wards.

**MALFOY YOU JIZZ-SNORTING ASS LICKING CUNT FACED MOTHERFUCKER, **

**YOU LEFT MY WAND IN A BROTHEL? Oh, that's nice. I had to sanitize it four goddamn times till I felt like I could touch it without getting herpes. Now, every time I look at it, I still imagine it as a dildo. I hate you.**

**Do you honestly think I'm just going to take this lying down? I've informed the Ministry about your jaunt to Madrid. **

**You were right. The eggs benedict were good. I hope that Azkaban food suits your pretty Pure-Blood stomach.**

**-G**

He grinned. This is why he just loved poking at Granger. Her retaliation was always furious and intelligent. He wondered what she'd do about the car…It really was quite a nice car, Draco mused. As soon as he got it painted he would be off to Scotland, perilously close to the Ministry. The locket of Helen of Troy was there, in the collection of the now old warlock who invented the Wolfsbane potion. Stealing only from Muggles was getting too boring, even with the Ministry on his tail. He knew he would be successful, now he needed to prove himself. Besides, Granger was in charge of his case. Anything to infuriate her further.

Really, his life was rather boring. And lonely. The distanced interactions he'd had with Granger were the first in a long time with someone who knew him, more or less. He didn't even admit it to himself, nor did he know why, but he wanted to them to continue. For now, annoying her was extremely amusing.

oOo

"Did you find out anything at all about Madrid?"

It was late, and Hermione was tired of her work. Harry had come calling. He had avoided a lot of protocol, like making an appointment or flooing ahead. As the hero of the wizarding world, he often did things as discreetly as possible. Hermione was used to it by now, but she still found it annoying at times.

"No, nothing. I had the Aurors I sent all Obliviated after because I told them about my involvement. They found zilch. He paid them ten thousand Euros in cash. The descriptions we got were of a tall, unremarkable man in glasses and a hat. They did a magic tracing test on scene, but they only detected the Portkey, Appration, and Disappration." Hermione did not feel it was prudent to tell Harry they had also found remnants of the spell Malfoy used to switch her clothes into the nightgown. Besides, it wasn't really relevant.

"And you just Obliviated them? That's quite ruthless, 'Mione. If anyone finds out, you're going to be in deep Hippogriff shit."

She glared at him across the desk. "If anybody finds out any of this, of I'll be in deep hippogriff shit. At the least, I'll get fined. At the most, I'll get a few months in Azkaban."

Harry shook his head. "Nah, they wouldn't do that to you. He wasn't with your wand when you performed the locating spell, either?"

She scowled. "No. My wand was in some sleezy French whore house."

Harry snickered. "You said it yourself, Mione. He really does think of everything."

A crumpled ball of paper hit him in the chest. "Even though he does think of everything, that doesn't change the fact that it would be much easier if he didn't."

Harry gracefully let the subject drop. "You ready to go to the Weasly dinner? Luna isn't coming, she says the smell of food makes her want to vomit. She's making me go."

"Oh, Merlin's saggy ball sack, that's tonight, isn't it? It's Wednesday, of course it's tonight." She sighed. "Yeah, sure. Just let me get ready, Harry. I'll be out in a second."

While Hermione was in the bathroom that adjacent to her office, Harry took a curious glance at the papers strewed across her desk. There were tons, but on top lay a list of "Things We Presume The Addict To Have Stolen." It was a very long list, and the edge of the parchment rolled over the edge of her desk and onto the floor before it finished.

"Okay, Harry. I'm ready, let's go."

As they were walking from her office to the Apparition points, Harry asked "The Addict?"

"Yes. That's what we've nicknamed the thief. Effers made some clever remark about him stealing so much it's like an addiction, and the name stuck."

"Interesting," was all he said.

oOo

Draco apprated into the Zabini country house. He was rather surprised the wards still let him in, but then again, that was what he'd been counting on. A house elf arrived seconds later. He had missed the prompt service of the wizarding world.

"Hello…Master Draco," it said, recognizing him. "I will get Master Blaise, yes?"

Draco nodded, and the creature disappeared with a popping sound. Curious, he ambled over to the delicate Japanese vase standing in front of a huge gilt-framed mirror. He was examining it when the Master of the house came to greet him, shoes clacking on the marble floors. Acting nonchalant, Malfoy continued examining the vase.

"Malfoy."

He turned. "Zabini."

Silence permeated the high-ceilinged entry room.

"I thought you were dead. The Ministry seemed sure you weren't, but what the hell do they know, eh?"

He grinned. "Well mate, your wards still let me in."

The aristocratic Italian frowned slightly. "Yes, I see they do. You must be here for a reason, Malfoy. You're a wanted man, visits between old friends aren't something you should indulge in."

Draco heard the consternation in his voice. "You're right, of course. I do want a favor. And don't look at me like that, I know what you're thinking. No, I don't want to assassinate some Muggle-Born at the Ministry, nor do I wish to go after Potter or something equally stupid. This is more of a…personal favor."

Blaise looked at him for a long moment. Then he sighed, and chuckled. "Only you, Draco, honestly. Disappear for five years without a word, become the third most wanted wizard in all of Europe and then show up at my house requesting personal favors. "

Draco shrugged his shoulders eloquently. "I would think being friends from birth gives me this privilege, no? Besides, it's not like this is something big. It's only on the very edge of being both illegal and amoral. I know you don't have problems with either."

The Italian rubbed his forehead tiredly before answering. "Look, Draco. I'll hear you out. It's the very least I can do, but I'm not making any promises."

Draco understood. Saving your own neck was always highest on the list of priorities.

"I have to go. I'm having dinner with my girlfriend's family."

"Who's the lucky girl?" He was slightly surprised. Blaise wasn't usually the type to meet daddy and have dinner with the family.

Blaise's expression shuttered. "Ginny Weasly." His countenance dared Draco to make a comment.

"Merlin's nipples, Blaise. That's a surprise. If you come back alive we'll have a firewhiskey and discuss things. I trust you're not averse to me spending the night?"

"Yes, yes. Ask Binky for anything, she'll get it for you. I really have to go, Draco."

Draco nodded, absentmindedly going back to examining the vase.

"I'm glad you're not dead," Blaise said, told his childhood friend just before he exited the room.

It was probably one of the most honest things Draco had been told in his life.

oOo

**Pretty please review?**


	2. Closing In

**DISCLAIMER: I am not affliated in any way with JKR. I do not own Harry Potter. This is not being written for profit. **

_May 23__rd__, 18.16_

The weekly Weasly dinner party was in full swing when Blaise arrived. He was last and slightly late, but his absence hadn't had much of an effect on the gathering.

Hermione, Charlie and the twins were in the living room. They were currently having a rather rambunctious discussion punctuated by laughter and playful smacks about something or other that happened in their fifth year of Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasly, Fleur, and Charlie's wife Angelina Bell were in the kitchen, discussing the newest robe-fashion and putting all of the food onto platters. Blaise walked outside, looking for Ginny's long red hair. He passed Potter and Weasly showing each other tricks on their broom sticks, and they greeted each other with manly nods. As he walked around the house to the vegetable garden, he could hear screaming and giggling.

A wave of children streamed around the corner of the house, flowing deftly past his legs. He turned, watching the two blondes and three redheads run away. Then, Ginny launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. She planted a big smack on his cheek before pinching him.

"You're late," she told him, grinning.

"You don't want to know."

She nodded. They had an understanding. They were adults in a mutually pleasing relationship. They enjoyed each other's company, they enjoyed sex. She wasn't clingy, he wasn't overbearing. After the war, he needed a girlfriend to take to the formal events that he partook in as Head Warlock of Quill on Parchment. Ginny was ideal, a war heroine second only to Hermione Granger. Though his family had been neutral, they received bad press because of their Pureblood lines and relations with commonly known Death Eaters. Ginny needed someone after she broke up with Harry. Someone fun, someone whom she could just do entertaining things with. She was, after all, only eighteen when the war had ended. Many times, she had proclaimed that she wanted to experience a life filled with cheer and joy after having her childhood consumed by the war.

What needled Blaise was that sometimes he almost wanted more, when he shouldn't. They had both been scrupulously clear that no deep feelings would get involved. He shouldn't have a problem with that, yet sometimes it almost felt like he did.

"I would be careful if I were you." She leaned in and whispered in his ear, her breath brushing tantalizingly across it. "The twins have some new product. They might just test it out on you."

He would've answered, but right then, all he wanted to do was kiss her till she forgot her own name. And he did. She responded enthusiastically, wrapping her legs around him more tightly and digging her fingers into his hair.

Someone cleared their throat behind the intertwined couple, interrupting their snogging session.

oOo

_May 22__nd__, 21.53_

Goblins ran the wizarding banks of Northern Europe for three main reasons. Firstly, because their knowledge and skill with metal and money was unparalleled. Secondly, because they were meticulously efficient and cold hearted. And Thirdly, because it had always been, and always would be, that way.

Perhaps this was not in the interest of the wizarding government, as they held little or no sway over the Goblins. The bank ran like Swiss banks. Each vault had a number, and while the name was often recorded, the Goblin's first priority was to always ensure the satisfaction of the customer. The customer paid, you see. Because of this, it did not matter what records you had with the Ministry, as long as you paid your bills and caused no trouble, Gringotts would oblige. If you could get past the Aurors stationed outside, that is.

Draco Malfoy belonged to the elite few that could manage to purchase the services of a Goblin.

Goblins were expensive. If they were caught during questionable activities the punishment was banishment in a potato sack. They also hated wizards, and were extremely aware of their own self-worth. But money was no object. Malfoy, being Malfoy, had managed to procure not just any goblin, but the Assistant Manager of Gringotts.

He was called Longshanks. Ironically, he was quite short, even by Goblin standards. He didn't come past most human knees. As the rest of his race, his age was indiscriminate. Gleaming black eyes were set deep into a wrinkly face. The three gold earrings in his bat-like ear were markings of his status among his kind.

Currently, Longshanks was sitting in his office. He was waiting for Gringotts to close, as it would in thirteen minutes. His client had sent him an owl asking for a meeting so he may make a deposit. The Assistant Manager could easily open Gringotts discreetly after hours.

Suddenly, an authoritative knock rang on his door. Longshanks fixed his gaze on the entrance, and glared. He vainly hoped it would make the intruder vanish. With a resigned sigh, he called for the person to come in while releasing the alarm enchantment that had been placed on the door.

A slim woman of medium height entered. Her chocolate brown hair tumbled down her back in dark waves, and large eyes were set under quirking eyebrows. Light green summer robes set off her golden brown skin, and her gait was smooth and confident. Of course Longshanks recognized her immediately. Hermione Granger, War Herione and notorious crime investigator.

His nervousness level went up a notch.

She said nothing as she turned and closed the door quietly.

"Miss Granger. How may I help you?"

Suddenly, her almost childish face twisted into a mischievous and far too _knowing_ smirk.

Longshanks narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, calm down old chap. It's just me."

His teeth gritted and his eyes thin slits, the Goblin was forced to ask "Sir…Mr.…Malfoy, sir?"

"Well, of course. Who else would it be?" Granger-Malofy sat and thunked her feet onto the desk, causing her skirt and robes to slid back and reveal a questionable amount of leg.

"Do you have an idea of how dangerous this is, you blomrvista?"

"Yes. Blomrvista?"

"Someone who is raped by Thestrals."

Malfoy chuckled darkly.

"It is generally person of extreme stupidity."

Mafloy nodded.

"She could enter the bank any minute. We are not yet closed. What if some disgusting photographer snapped a picture of you entering? What if the Aurors had detained you? What if I had been with a client?"

"Relax. I'll add extra to your tab. Don't make me regret it." There was a threat laced in her words.

Longshanks acquiesced. "What can I do for you today?"

"First, I have something I would like to deposit." Out of the pocket of her robes came a wallet sized drawstring bag, which she placed on the desk. "It's a painting. Starry Night."

The banker wrote it down in the Malfoy records. Gringott's record books were enchanted so that only the Goblins and the owner of the vault could read their entry.

"Second, I would like to with draw something from a different account."

"Different account?" The Malfoy family had but one centralized account.

"Of course." Malfoy smiled sweetly. "My account."

Longshanks blanched. "That is…that is simply…unacceptable. This was not part of our contract!"

Granger-Malfoy lunged across the desk at the Goblin, her wand digging into his throat as she crushed him under her weight.

"Let me make one thing clear," she hissed into the Goblin's ear. "Just because I look like that Granger twat, that does by no means make me anything like her. As for this not being in our contract, you know I give sufficient compensation. Don't get cocky because the Dark Lord is gone, and I am a wanted man. The circumstances have not changed."

Granger-Malfoy stood up slowly, her wand still pointing at his throat. "You will let me withdraw from her account. And I want to withdraw everything in it."

Lonshanks nodded stiffly, eyeing the wand still pointed at him as he made his way over to the door.

Draco smiled grimly as he hid his wand between the folds of his robes. "Go."

Gringotts was now closed, but it was still full of employees quickly organizing before the end of their day. Once they were in a cart and zooming down the tunnels, Draco relaxed slightly, although Longshanks did not. First they visited the Malfoy vault, one of the oldest, guarded by a large black dragon. Draco went inside, taking the painting out of it's bag. He enlarged it back to it's original size, leaving it rather regretfully behind with stacks of galleons and family heirlooms.

As they were driving to the Granger vault, Longshanks attempted to change Draco's mind.

"Sir-Madame. Please, reconsider. The consequences-"

"I know what I'm doing. Keep driving. And stop worrying."

The vault number was 782. It was a more modern vault than his own, and as Draco entered, he saw it was on the larger side.

As Longshanks stood awkwardly by the doorway, Draco walked through the vault. Nonchalantly, he examined the stacks of gold. There was also a shelf full of exceedingly rare books. With a careful spell, he magicked all the contents of the vault into the bottomless bag in which the Van Gough painting formerly resided. In the middle of the vault, he left a single galleon and an envelope which he drew from is pocket.

Draco spun, muttering "Obliviate," and sent the hex directly at Longshanks. It hit him in the chest, and he stood still for a moment, dazed. Draco led him back to the cart and dumped him inside unceremoniously. He slapped the Goblin's face lightly.

The beady eyes blinked, some form of intelligence floating back into them.

Draco smiled guilelessly, attempting to emulate Granger.

"You drifted off for a moment there, Mr. Longshanks. I've finished my business, could you please return us to the Alley?"

"Miss…Granger? Back to the Alley? Yes, Madame. Right…away."

A slightly bewildered but compliant Longshanks started the cart again, and they were soon wooshing back above ground.

oOo

_May 23__rd__, 18.34_

The most apt way to describe a Weasly dinner would be as an enjoyable form of torture.

Hermione knew for a fact that Ron had just caught Ginny and Blaise snogging. His face was a comical mixture of anger and amusement. When Ginny had first announced she was going to the St. Mungo's charity ball with Blaise, Ron had thought it was a joke. Ginny had made it crystal clear that it wasn't. Ron had exploded, yelling at her about Pure Bloods, Slytherins, and the War. Ginny had replied just as passionately, and the enormous row had ended with Ginny screaming at Ron about Zabini's cock being ten times larger than his before Disapperating.

Naturally, Harry and Hermione soon had a long talk with Ron. They forced him to accept the fact that the Zabinis had been neutral. They also forced him to mature slightly; not all Slytherins were constantly evil bastards. Ginny was a big girl, and she knew what was good for her. Ron couldn't meddle in her life constantly or tell her what to do just because she was his younger sister.

After that serious discussion, the trio of friends met Zabini privately for lunch. It was an interesting experience; the seemingly normal conversation was filled with an undercurrent of snide remarks and threats. Hermione had no reason to dislike Zabini, from what she had seen. He was charming, intelligent, and he worked for a living. However, she never felt completely at ease in his company. Everything he said was simply too perfect, never a derogatory comment or scandalous phrase left his lips. He was exuberant, fun, and full of life, but often he was simply not genuine enough to suit her.

When she had brought this up with Harry, he had agreed. He had also attributed it, at least slightly, to his Pure Blood up-bringing. Most Pure Bloods, especially first-born males, had the regimen of eighteenth century nobility. They were taught conversation, poise, dance, riding, fencing, at least two other languages, extensive history, and never _ever_ to take anything anyone said at face value. Zabini was also the head of the journalism company which ran Witch Weekly, Which Broomstick?, and European Magiks. Being polite was probably something he utilized more often than being genuine.

Hermione and Harry knew how Ginny's relationship worked, although her family did not. Though Harry wanted Ginny to find someone who would love her and cherish her, Hermione saw that Zabini made her happy. Ginny was only twenty-two, and she deserved to live part of her life as a normal young witch, rather than a key figure in a devastating war.

"Where were they this time?" she murmured to Ron as she sat next to him.

He turned and looked at her, the corner of his mouth lifting and twisting wryly. "I'm that easy to read?"

She just waited patiently.

He let loose a small sigh before answering. "Behind the house. I think it was a hello kiss." His big, freckled hands curled into fists. "That's my sister, 'Mione. I know she's two years younger than me and all grown up, but it's still my baby sister."

Hermione lay her hand on his arm in comfort. "I know. You can't protect her forever. She has to heal on her own. And he makes her happy. Besides, you were always her big brother, and she never complained about you sucking face with someone."

Ron didn't answer, instead, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek on her hair. She put her arms around him in return, and they hugged for a few seconds before dinner was served.

oOo

_September 16__th__, Six years prior_

Ginny had persuaded Hermione to go shopping with her.

Perhaps persuaded wasn't really the right word. Her technique involved several things, including whining, wheedling, begging, and outright threatening. However she had managed to do it, Ginny and Hermione were now in Diagon Ally. Ginny was bubbling with excitement, chattering as she dragged a resigned Hermione along. It was their first proper shopping trip in years, and even if they only had two hours and three order members constantly on their trail, while wearing disguising charms. Ginny was ruthlessly determined to enjoy this; it was, after all, her belated birthday present.

They had not even visited their first shop, and were on their way to Madame Malkins. A charming young man, not much older than they were, stepped into their path.

"A moment, ladies?" He smiled easily.

Ginny smiled back, tugging Hermione to a stop. Hermione rolled her eyes.

The man claimed to be selling protection charms, which was really quite ironic. After scarcely a minute, he Imperio'd Ginny and Hermione to follow him into a dark alley. Both of them had been too shocked to resist, and he lifted the curse just after he body-bound them.

He didn't rape them. But that was clearly his intention. He had started unbuttoning their shirts and kissing them slightly when one of the Order members trailing them had Stupefied him.

It wasn't the worst that Hermione or Ginny ever saw. It could in fact be argued that both of them would do worse things in the last few months of the war. However, it was highly personal and disturbing in ways that fighting on the battlefield or covert operations would ever be.

Ginny never stopped blaming herself for what happened, although she got over it relatively quickly. Hermione would always carry the slight fear of being left alone with a man she didn't know. They both practiced offensive and defensive magic with increased fervor after the incident.

Only Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore were told.

oOo

_May 25__th__, 15. 45_

Luna Lovegood was quite surprised to be getting a knock on her door that afternoon.

After marrying Harry, they had moved to an old run-down farmhouse in Muggle Wales. The residence was extremely private, only their closest friends knew the location. Harry was the secret-keeper himself. Unexpected visitors were extremely rare.

Luna smiled. A change in the schedule was an interesting surprise. When she finally got down to the door, she found Hermione Granger standing outside, looking extremely upset. Her long hair was in a messy bun on top of her head, her forehead wrinkled, and her lips pressed in a thin line.

"Good afternoon, Hermione."

Hermione forced a smile. "Hullo, Luna. I'm sorry for intruding, is Harry home? I have something urgent I need to discuss with him."

"Harry?" Luna's wide eyes almost gave the impression she had forgotten her husband. Hermione waited patiently. "Harry…Oh, he and Albus are out fishing. They should be back soon, the Witherywomps come out here after dark, you know…would you like to come in for some tea?"

Hermione nodded. Luna noticed the gray shadows under her eyes, and that her skin was decidedly pale. Luna wondered what she was worrying about.

A pregnant Luna waddled around the kitchen fixing some kind of African tea and setting Poppy-Seed Muffins on a platter. The only biscuits she could find were Ginger-Snaps, and Hermione didn't like anything with cloves. Wizarding Wireless played softly in the background while Luna quietly hummed along.

"So, Luna, have you picked a name yet?"

Luna set down the cups and the plate of muffins before sinking into the chair opposite Hermione.

"I was thinking something with Lily, after Harry's mother, you know? But I wouldn't want it to be her first name. I think as a middle name."

"Are you sure this one's a girl?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she said serenely. "After two boys, it's bound to be a girl. And I made a potion with Gnargle wings and Butterflip pods."

Hermione nibbled on a muffin, washing it around her mouth with the tea.

"You look worried," Luna said abruptly.

"Oh, just trouble at work," she answered breezily.

"Really? I almost thought you had a man on your mind."

Hermione's lips curved into a wry smile. "I do. Just not like that...It's work related."

Luna nodded. "Did you want to speak to Harry about something work related? You have a big case, don't you?"

"No…this is something more personal." Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She had come here specifically to recruit Harry to assist her to track down and kill one Draco Malfoy. Perhaps she might even feed him his own balls before Avada'ing him. But right now she was simmering with anger. She had broken her best vase before coming to find Harry, which was why she wasn't currently in a state of Extremely Pissed rather than Murderous Rage.

He had gone into her bank account. Her bank account! He had wormed his way into Gringotts, pretended to be her, and withdrawn every thing down to one galleon from her account. The money she had worked so hard to earn, and even her most important books. Taking her wand had been annoying, but this just made Hermione feel…violated. He had launched a deliberate offense. And Hermione was not going to take it lying down. Federal investigation pending be damned!

She knew she would have to be careful, keep her temper in check. He was one of the most dangerous fugitives of the War, and before that he had been in Voldemort's inner circle. This was not the childish Draco Malfoy she remembered from school, this was a man who had taken on the Ministry of Magic and more or less won. This was a man with bottomless recourses. But Merlin's left nipple, she was Hermione Granger. She had been instrumental in bringing down the Dark Lord. And she wasn't just doing this, she needed to do this.

But she was still taking Harry along for insurance. If she had gone off by herself, she knew that Harry and Ron and all those close to her would have gone insane. First with worry, and then with anger. Never mind that she was capable of beating most of them in duels.

Which was why she was here now. She wondered if she should tell Luna; she knew Harry's wife was one hundred percent trustworthy. She sighed.

"Do you remember Draco Malfoy?"

"Draco Malfoy? The one with the horrible father? Of course."

Hermione unconsciously frowned slightly, annoyed that his father was the first thing that Luna thought about when thinking about Malfoy.

"Yes, well…I had a run in with him recently."

"A run in?" Luna asked calmly.

"Yes…you see, I was trying out a new spell on the wards of his house. The magical backlash knocked me out. He found me, and he left me in a hotel in Spain with a Port Key back to the Ministry. That's a life debt…but that little wanker took my wand and hid it in some French brothel."

Hermione scowled, while Luna smiled.

"Anyways, I sent Aurors to check out Madrid, but they found nothing. And now, he's waltzed into Gringotts, impersonating me, and taken all the money out of my bank account. And he left this letter." Hermione pulled the crumpled piece of heavy stationary out of her pocket, pushing it across the table at Luna.

The blonde delicately picked it up, reading it's contents slowly.

_Dear Granger,_

_I imagine as you're reading this you'll be spitting out fire works and eternally cursing the Malfoy name. I have one thing to say._

_Chill your tits. _

_You're never going to be able to catch me if you're raging like a blast-ended skwert. _

_I'll be seeing you soon,_

_M_

"Hm," was what Luna said. She put the letter down slowly. After a moment of deliberation, she spoke.

"Hermione…I wouldn't do anything."

She almost gasped in outrage, but controlled herself. Luna had been in Ravenclaw for a reason.

"He obviously wants you to follow him. He wants to see you…in person. And I think that's better if he does that in the middle of London. In your territory."

"Luna, you don't understand…"

Luna sighed. "All I'm asking, Hermione, is for you to be careful."

"You know me Luna. Of course I'm going to be careful."

"I assume that's why you came to speak to Harry? You want him to help you track down Draco."

"Yes. I'm being careful. See?"

oOo

_May 23__rd__, 22.28_

"This is your personal favor?"

Draco carefully kept his face blank. "Well, part of it. It's part of my…plan."

"Your scheme, you mean." Blaise replied. He poured himself another shot of Odgen's finest and tossed it back.

"So, besides a comprehensive background check on Granger, what else is there?"

Draco swirled the firewhiskey around in his glass. "I need the blue prints to Damocles Herrin's mansion in Scotland."

"Do I want to know why?" Draco shot the Italian a look. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Alright, that's easy. All I have to do is get someone to go into Ministry Archives. I can have those for you day after tomorrow at the latest. How long will you be gracing my house with your presence?"

"Come now, Zabini. Do I really have to answer that?"

Zabini poured himself another shot.

oOo

_May 25__th__, 16.24_

"HE DID WHAT?" Harry roared, his green eyes flashing as he gripped his wand. Luna laid a gentle but firm hand on her husband's forearm.

"You'll wake Albus."

Hermione's eyes glittered with anger. "Harry. I want to find him. I want to string out his guts and pull out his eyeballs."

Her best friend leveled a long look at her. Then he grinned, a display of teeth akin to that of a wolf. "We can do this. This'll be _fun._"

"Oh, you damn betcha."

oOo

_May 27__th__, 12.54_

They found him at a resort in Switzerland.

It was Muggle, but very beautiful. She could see why he would choose to come here, accustomed to only the best. Gstaad had charming wattle-and-daub houses in a village style made all the more perfect by the snow coating the roofs and the icicles frosting the eaves. As soon as they paid for a hotel room under the pretext of a couple and the name Nicholson, Hermione put on some appearance charms and her down jacket and went to explore the pristine beauty of the Alps. Harry took a nap.

Even though it was May, and technically spring, there was still plenty of natural snow this high in the mountains. A few people were going skiing on the man-made snow in the resort. Hermione passed them, uninterested.

She had always been fascinated by Switzerland. Seven hundred years of peace, both Muggle and Wizarding, were no mean feat. The people were extremely polite, although slightly wary of foreigners. They spoke German, English, and French as well as a mix of several languages at home. And Malfoy would not completely ruin it for her.

After tramping through the snow for hours, Hermione went back to the resort. In the café, she ordered a 'Pfeffermintz Te' and a Mohnkuchen. Her customary tea was wonderfully warming and the cake filled with poppy seeds was delicious. She was eating the last piece when she saw him.

He came through the door, carrying skis. A beautiful woman was walking behind him, laughing as she freed her long red hair to tumble down her back. Her figure was visible underneath the ski clothes. He wrapped his arm around her waist and murmured something in he ear. She laughed, long and happy.

Hermione felt a stab of annoyance.

They left their gear in the coat room, and sat in a booth at the furthest corner, both on the same bench. Much whispering and giggling ensued.

Gritting her teeth, Hermione left some Euros on the table and went to go wake Harry.

Harry was awakened by something the bouncing of the bed. He slept lightly as a habit, bourne from being a war veteran. Hermione hand thrown off the layers of clothes she had donned to go outside before she threw herself on the bed.

"He's here."

Harry was instantly alert. "Where?"

"I just saw him, down in the café. He was with some gorgeous red headed twit. I'm sure as we're speaking he's plotting in his little ferrety mind how to bang her six ways from Sunday."

"I'm sure he is." Harry sat up on the bed, crossing his legs. "So, when do we act?"

Hermione bit her lip, contemplating. They had to go when they would be least conspicuous. But if they waited too long, then Malfoy was bound to slip out of their hands.

"I say we go tonight, as soon as it gets dark."

Harry nodded in acquiescence. "With surprise on our side…we should be able to overpower him quickly. Then we can Disapperate to the Order's holding cells. What do you think?"

"That sounds fine. Any strategy?"

Harry grinned. "You go first. I'll be your backup."

"Sounds great to me. Now, lets rent some movies till we can get the little bugger."

oOo

_May 27__th__, 20.16_

Hermione sent a wordless Silencio at the door knob, then an Alohomora. It opened soundlessly. The door wasn't warded, and she supposed that the anonymity of the Muggle world had lulled him into a false sense of security. She smiled. One more advantage over him.

Luckily, Draco hadn't taken the red-headed siren back to his room, instead retiring alone while she went to the spa to get a Swedish massage.

Carefully, she stepped into the room. Her wand was drawn. Her hands trembled slightly from the anticipation. Slowly, she closed the door behind her till it was leaning against the frame so Harry could enter easily. Malfoy's room was twice the size of theirs. Of course. She took in the rumpled bed, a leather suitcase set, and a few papers peaking out of the briefcase on the desk.

Suddenly, a door creaked. She whirled around, pointing her wand at the entrance to what she presumed was the bathroom. A man walked out, a towel low-slung around lean hips as he used another to rub at his head.

Hermione later conceded that her greatest mistake was not jinxing him right away. She was just shocked, and for a few seconds she was almost sure they had the wrong person. Then she saw the black mark on the inside of his forearm. But not before the towel stopped covering his eyes and he saw her.

"Stupefy!" she shouted, but he dodged the curse, advancing unbearably fast. She squeaked in surprise.

"Petrificus totalus. Stupefy!" Her curses all missed as she scrambled over the bed to evade him, thunking against the wall before rolling away as he closed in far faster than she was prepared for.

"Contig-" her curse was cut off as his body landed on top of hers, one of his hands gripping her wand arm and slamming it against the floor.

"Well, well well…" he said with his unbearably refined accent. Grey eyes pierced hers.

"What have we here?"

**SOOOO, what did you think? The Draco Polyjuiced as Hermione was really hard to write, I hope it wasn't too confusing! I hope got Luna right, too. And that the times weren't TO confusing, switching back and forth like that.**

**Tell me what you think, pretty please with a CHERRY ON TOP? I will give you endless love if you do.**


	3. Tracking Hermione and an Unbreakable Vow

**DISCLAIMER: Characters are not mine, property of JKR, etc.**

**I want to thank my lovely reviewers: slytherinqueen23, darkangel28672, and MeenaMoo. Oodles of thanks to those who added this to Story Alert or Favorites, too. Next time could you maybe be bothered to leave me a review?**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

oOo

_May 25th, 21.32_

Hermione writhed under Draco, trying desperately to get out of his hold. She twisted her wand to point vaguely in his direction. Wildly, she tried to cast a non-verbal Crucio, but one of his large hands came to envelope both her wrists as he plucked her wand out of her fingers. She squirmed, trying to unpin one of her legs in order to kick him. He successfully rendered her immobile.

"Granger," he growled. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stop moving. Salazar's arse crack, this towel isn't exactly the most...durable article of clothing. If it could even be considered one."

She froze. For a second, she considered spitting in his face. Instead, she scowled. Do not look at the door, she reminded herself. Do not think about Harry. Do not think about about a scantily clad Malfoy this close to you.

"How the hell did you Polyjuice yourself into me, you little whore?"

He smirked. "I bribed the janitor at the Ministry to get me a hair out of your office."

Her scowl increased in ferocity.

"I Obliviated him, so don't expect to get anything out of the bloke, kitten."

"Let me up."

He seemed amused. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"So we can fight a duel," she told him, speaking as if to a five year old.

"Why on earth would I duel you?"

She smiled sweetly. "Because, it's the honorable way to win and prove your superiority."

Malfoy snorted, managing to look frustratingly elegant while doing so. "I was in Slytherin. Do you really think you can appeal to my sense of honor?"

"It was worth a try."

Using her wand, he bound her, and then unceremoniously levitated her onto the bed. "Wait here, kitten. I'm going to change into some actual clothes." Just before he closed the bathroom door, he turned and gave her a stern look. "And don't even think of screaming."

She rolled her eyes.

Draco closed the door to the bathroom behind him, letting the towel that had been wrapped around his hips fall to the ground. He swiftly put thoughts of Granger's supple body rubbing enticingly against his out of his mind. She had found him, and not only had she found him, she had found him four days before he meant for her to find him. What was he going to tell Liesel?

He smirked to himself. Maybe he could persuade Granger to replace Liesel. He remembered her attempt to Crucio him. Maybe not.

The ropes around her wrists were frustratingly tight and well knotted. And Harry hadn't come yet. Hermione was starting worry just a little. She tried summoning her wand, but she was too stressed to perform wandless magic, her mind was unable to focus to the degree that was necessary.

Malfoy came out of the bathroom, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. Hermione bit her lip.

"So, what are you going to do now?"

He glanced at her as he went through some papers in his briefcase. "I'm going to wait for whomever you brought with you to come and find you."

Shocked, she very deliberately kept her face blank. "How do you know I brought someone with me?"

"I know you're not stupid, Granger. I'm just wondering whether it's Potty or the Weasel."

Hermione almost choked on her own spit.

Draco chuckled. "You're far too predictable, Granger."

The door burst into flames.

"Shite," he said. He stuck her wand in the back pocket of his jeans. Then, with a wide sweeping motion of his all of the personal belongings scattered around the room flew into the largest suitcase, which then closed.

Bellatrix Lestrange came crashing through the door, dodging a red stream of light.

Hermione screamed. Draco grabbed her off the bed and hauled her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry as Harry followed Bellatrix into the room.

She was screeching obscenities at Harry, but when she saw Draco and Hermione she began including them. Her magic shimmered in the air around her; her instability causing the things closest to her to spin into a small whirlwind. Harry aimed another curse at her, and as he was firing, Hermione felt more than saw Draco raise his wand arm. She desperately screamed warnings at her best friend, but she heard Draco mutter something. Then she had the nauseating experience of being squeezed through a tube.

She heard the crack as they Apparated somewhere else.

"What did you do to him, you bastard? What did you DO! Did you make it easier for your psychotic cunt of an aunt to kill him? What did you-"

He gagged her with a spell. "Relax, kitten. It was a Untraceable Trans-Location spell."

Her eyes widened, and he heard her silent question.

"I sent him near that house he has. The one in Wales. Savior of the Wizarding world, my arse, and living in a tumble-down farmhouse with Loony Lovegood. Or, I guess she's Loony Potter now," he snickered.

"Anyhow, I also Stupified him. I can't have him rushing after Auntie Bella lusting for her blood when she'd likely kill him."

Hermione sagged with relief. Draco reached down and tossed her over his shoulder again. He picked up his suitcase and started whistling an obnoxiously cheerful tune as he walked down the deserted country lane.

The adrenaline rush left her body, and Hermione struggled to keep her eyes open. The gentle up and down motion of Malfoy as he walked was not helping. Her surroundings were lovely and peaceful, the country lane bordered by a charming stone wall and beautifull old trees with a crescent moon hanging in the sky. Mentally, she tried to coach herself. She would have never done this during the war; she would have been fighting tooth and nail if it were the old days. Office work had made her soft. She had to stay awake, had to gather information...

Draco felt Granger completely relax, all her muscles wilting into sleep. He could hear her delicate snore, and smirked to himself. He walked ten more steps, and then crouched next to the wall. He carefully loosened and then pulled out the third stone from the top. There was a small vial waiting there. Making sure he had a firm grip on Granger and his suitcase, he touched the Portkey.

oOo

_May 26th, 7.29_

Hermione rolled onto her side, her cheek rubbing against the perfectly smooth sheets. She kneaded the pillow into best shape, and just as she was ready to fall over the cliff and into unconsciousness, her eyes shot open. Silky sheets, all her sheets at home were cotton!

Hermione sat up so quickly she became dizzy.

The room around her was simplistic and modern; the color scheme seemed to be mainly black, white and silver. There was a huge window to her left, overlooking the skyline of a bustling city. A plasma screen TV covered the wall opposite her bed with it's black satin sheets. The night stands were made of glass. There was a black fur throw rug between the bed and the telly, and opposite the window there was a doorway. She got out of bed, wondering if Malfoy had dumped her in an obscenely expensive hotel again.

The doorway led to a bathroom, a living room, and a third door which she assumed led outside. She was just about to test her theory when a plump girl in a demure maid costume walked out of the living room.

"Ah, up all ready, miss. Would you be liking some breakfast then? Master Draco said to prepare it for you soon as you woke up." She spoke with broad vowels and an accent very different from Hermione's own.

"Am I in Scotland?"

"'Course, miss. Welcome to Aberdeen."

oOo

_May 26th, 2.47_

"Enervate," Harry heard someone murmur, and he groaned softly.

Luna watched her husband's eyes flutter open. She wondered how Draco Malfoy had avoided two of the most accomplished wizards of the century out for his blood.

Harry tried to sit up, but Luna pushed a gentle restraining hand on his chest, and he fell back into the grass.

"Luna?" he asked groggily.

"Yes. Relax."

He mumbled something intelligible in reply.

With a swish and flick of her wand, Luna began levitating Harry back to the house. She was forced to walk slowly because of her pregnancy, but she enjoyed the stroll. The night air was fresh and cool as crickets sang under the silvery moonlight. The only thing that ruined the picturesque evening, she decided, was that she had absolutely no idea where Hermione was. She wondered if she should contact the Order.

Once she got into the house, Luna dumped her husband on the couch. He was still not fully functional, fighting off the effects of rather strong Stupefy. She went into the kitchen to make a the green powder into the fireplace she said clearly, "Weasly Flat, 1763 Carlburry Street, London."

Luna knelt awkwardly in front of the hearth, sticking her head into the emerald flames. Immediately she saw a eclectically furnished living room, but no Ginny Weasly in sight. She sighed.

"Ginnnnnyyyyy. Ginny, I know you're probably with hat gorgeous piece of Italian chocolate of yours, but this really is rather urgent." She waited patiently, and a minute later Ginny Weasly walked into the living room wrapped in a blanket. Her hair was mussed and her lips swollen, but her eyes were wide and worried.

"What's wrong, Luna?"

"Come Floo here as quickly as you can. Harry will tell you."

oOo

_May 26th, 9.14_

Draco reentered the flat he had rented in Aberdeen. Honestly, Potter and Herrin. He had no idea why two so resolutely famous wizards had banished themselves to the middle of nowhere. Honestly, Wales and Sutherland, Scotland? No one lived there but nutty Muggles and a few sheep. Shaking his head in disgust, Draco prepared to meet Granger again. He dumped his bags and coat on the kitchen counter and asked Anna where their guest was.

She was in the bedroom, sitting cross legged on the bed in one of his shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. The Muggle news were playing as she sipped the contents of a steaming mug. Draco plopped himself down next to her.

"Good morning, kitten."

She didn't take her eyes off the telly. "Don't sodding call me that."

"Call you what, kitten?" She did not dignify him with a reply, instead taking another sip from her cup.

Draco spied a sliced apple on the nightstand. He took a piece, crunching it cheerfully. He waited. The newscaster was talking about that Muggle sport, football. The world championship was currently happening in South Africa. Draco crossed his ankles. Apparently, England was doing abysmally.

She took the bait. Sighing, she asked "Why am I here, Malfoy?"

"Well, you see Granger, I have a bit of a problem...And as much as it wounds my ego, I'm afraid I need your help."

oOo

_May 26th, 3.16_

When Ginny stepped out of the fireplace in Wales, Luna was forcing Harry to drink some of her African tea spiked with sherry and an energy potion. Harry looked exhausted and worried; as well as being streaked with mud, dust, and what looked like burn marks on his robes.

"What happened?"

Luna perched on the couch next to her disheveled husband with a straight back and her customary serene expression. "I found him half an hour ago when I went for a walk. He was across the stream and in the meadow, just outside the strongest of the wards."

Harry was obediently drinking some of his tea. Ginny looked at him in question.

"It's a long story, Gin. Do you want some biscuits?"

oOo

_May 26th, 9.28_

Draco unrolled the blue prints on the table in his study, weighing down the corners with a quill-holder, a paperweight, a book and Hermione's cup of Peppermint tea.

She did not object when he took it from her, her cinnamon eyes flicking quickly over the maps of the house and it's extensive gardens.

"What's this?"

"This is Damocles Herrin's mansion-"

"_The_ Damocles Herrin?" she interrupted.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes. _The_ Damocles Herrin, author of The Practical Guide to Werewolves and inventor of the Wolfsbane potion. It's in Sutherland, the province just before the tip of Scotland."

"I see..."

"He also currently has in his possession the cursed locket of Helen of Troy."

Her eyes flicked up to his face. She stopped studying the papers, stood up straight, and looked him in the eye.

"You're going to help me steal it."

oOo

_May 26th, 3.43_

Ginny took a deep breath. "Okay, Harry, let me get this straight. A few days ago, Hermione went try and get the wards down on Malfoy Manor by herself. She fainted because the spell she used reacted badly and the magic rebounded and hit her. Draco Malfoy took her to a hotel in Spain and left her with a Portkey back to the ministry. But he kept her wand, but hid it in a French whore house. Then, he went into Gringotts and stole all her money, whereupon you and Hermione decided to go after him."

"I told them it was a bad idea," Luna said matter-of-factly, no reproach in her tone.

"Bad idea? Try insanely idiotic idea. So, you found him at this Gstaad ski resort in Switzerland. Then what happened?"

"We decided to get him as soon as it was dark and he came back to his room. We wanted to be quick, y'know? So he wouldn't get away. But we didn't want to be hasty either. We decided to go just after dark. Of course Hermione wanted revenge, so she went first. No traps, nothing. Straight foreword fighting. I was going to be her back up," Harry said broodingly.

"So she goes in, and a few seconds later, I heard them fighting. I was about to follow her in when Bellatrix Lestrange shot an Avada past my head."

Ginny's mouth fell open. Luna's eyebrows rose.

"Bellatrix Lestrange? What was she doing there?"

"Well, she said something about looking for her Blood-Traitor nephew as we were fighting but finding me instead, so she's tracking Malfoy for some reason."

"I wonder what exactly Malfoy did to be considered a Blood-Traitor in her eyes," Luna mused.

"What happened then?" Ginny demanded.

"We were dueling, and she fell through the door into Malfoy's room. She was starting to go really mad, screaming about the Dark Lord and Pure Bloods. I followed her in, she was still fighting, but it's starting to get erratic and she's loosing control of her magic. She's throwing curses at me and at Malfoy, who was grabbing a suitcase and carrying Hermione. Hermione was yelling something, but I was trying to get Bellatrix...then it all went black and I woke up here."

Ginny cursed. Luna poured her a cup of tea.

"That make absolutely no fucking sense at all," Ginny said.

"I know that," Harry barked. Luna put a biscuit in his hand.

"Do you think we should contact the Order?"

Harry swallowed his bite of Ginger Snap. "If Hermione isn't back by tomorrow morning, we're going on full alert."

oOo

_May 26th, 9.33_

Draco saw her eyes widen almost imperceptibly.

"Hm," she said, remarkably blasé. "Why would I do that?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Granger," he swept his arm out, gesturing at the flat, "You're completely at my mercy."

"I'm also a highly trained Ministry Professional and a War veteran," she said quietly.

"Try War heroine, Granger. Modesty is terribly overrated."

She looked back up at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly in amusement. It vanished just as quickly as he had spotted it, though, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Why do you want to steal it?"

"Correction. Why am I stealing it, I think you mean?"

She grimaced.

"I am stealing it, kitten, because I want to."

"Getting low on galleons?" she baited him.

He grinned. "No, as a matter of fact. Besides, it would be difficult to get a good price for the choker on the black market. It's far too conspicuous and not useful for shite. And you know the Ministry circles any potential buyers I might have for it like sharks."

"What do I get from helping you?"

Draco pretended to mull it over, pleased that she had caved so easily. "Well, your freedom, for one thing. I suppose I could give you your money back, with a slight bonus, of course."

She glared at him. "That's not good enough."

He shrugged. "What do you want, then?"

"I want you to give the Ministry all the information you have concerning the current state of one Bellatrix Lestrange, fugitive of the War and top-priority."

His eyes darkened and any amusement vanished from his expression.

"You drive a hard bargain, kitten."

oOo

_May 26th, 9.17_

Ginny Flooed back to her flat. Hermione still had not reappeared, and she was going to get a few things for the Order meeting they were holding in Grimmauld Place in forty-five minutes. She was surprised when Blaise walked out of the bathroom, hair wet and buttoning his shirt.

"'Morning, love," he said, snaking an arm around her waist and planting a kiss on her fore head. "I'm off to work in fifteen minutes. Do you need anything?" He seemed concerned, but according to the unspoken rules of their relationship, he didn't pry.

Ginny leaned into his embrace. She wondered if she should tell him anything. No, it was none of his business. And suddenly, she wondered how much she could trust him. He and Malfoy had be notoriously close in school, and all the Pureblood families had a sort of kinship. Blaise must have felt her tense, because he stopped feathering kisses on her face and murmured "What's wrong?" in her ear.

"Oh, nothing," she replied breezily, breaking out of the circle of his arms to go find a Energizing Potion in her medicine cabinet.

"Are we still going to get dinner tonight?" he asked from the doorway.

She sighed. "No, I'm afraid that will have to be put on hold."

oOo

_May 26th, 9.22_

Ron was awakened by someone gently shaking his shoulder. He groaned, but the shaking became harder and more insistent. He blearily opened his eyes to look straight into the large pale-blue ones of Luna Potter, neé Lovegood.

"Merlins saggy ball sack," he said creakily. "You nearly scared the magic out of me."

"I'm sorry," Luna answered, not seeming repentant at all.

He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "What's happening?"

"Hermione's been kidnapped," Luna said dreamily, twirling a lock of hair around her fingers.

"Wait, could you repeat that? I could swear you said-"

"Hermione has been kidnapped," she said again, far more deliberately.

There was a second of silence, where the twittering birds could be heard outside.

"WHAT?" Ronald Weasly roared.

oOo

_May 26th, 9.34_

Damocles Herrin walked through his green house.

The plants were all thriving, and he would soon have a new batch to utilize in the making of his revolutionary potion. It had taken him years and several...hesitant test subjects, but he had finally come up with a formula which would allow Mermaids to walk on land for a few hours. All that was left was the refining...

oOo

_May 26th, 10.04_

Remus Lupin, semi-official head of the Order of the Pheonix, husband of Nymphadora Tonks, father of Teddy Lupin, and werewolf sat at the head of the table absorbing what Harry had just told them.

"So, Hermione has been kidnapped. By a Death Eater, and the situation involves at least one other extremely dangerous high-priority fugitive."

Harry nodded grimly.

"Do you have any idea where he might have taken them?"

"None at all, although I think it's safe to assume he's stayed on the continent. Most of his resources are here."

Lupin sighed. "We'll have a bloody hard time tracking anything within the government about him-the Ministry doesn't know shite and the French won't leak information about a citizen to us. From what he have in his Order file, there's nothing new since the war. He has access to all Malfoy bank accounts and estates. Although it's easy to underestimate him, remember, this is the same man he was during the war-a high up Death Eater-and he has evaded the Ministry for years. Does anybody have any suggestions for a plan of action?"

"We can just sneak into her flat and get something of hers for a tracking spell, right?" Fred asked.

Tonks shook her head. "I don't know if it's her wards or if Malfoy put them there, but her flat is absolutely impenetrable. Requires blood and wand scans to get in. Same with her office. That entire department under her is starting to get restless. We might have to send someone in under Polyjuice."

"Someone should be bloody investigating the break in at Gringotts," Moody barked. "It's impossible that little Malfoy got into her account without some sort of help, inside or out."

"I can do that," Bill Weasly said in his hoarse voice. "I'll have results by the end of the week."

"Ginny, that boyfriend of yours-" Ron was silenced with a murderous glare from his sister.

Lupin sighed. "I know you trust him, Ginny...but if you could discreetly question one of his House Elves? He and Malfoy have ties that go back to being children together."

Ginny's jaw hardened. "Alright. I'll go right after the meeting is through."

"Someone should contact Snape," Lupin said abruptly. "The boy is his godson, after all. He would know better than anyone where Little Malfoy may currently be hiding."

"I can see the old codger," Tonks said. "I'm busy till tonight, and if I can't get there then, I'll go tomrrow."

Lupin nodded. "Now, we need to set up surveillance..."

oOo

_May 26th, 9.37_

"A hard bargain?" Her lips quirked. "You're asking me to break the law. Aiding and abetting is a serious offense."

Malfoy waved his hand, a physical embodiment of waving away her comment. "You can always say you did it under duress. It won't be a lie, and you're Hermione bloody Granger. I wouldn't be surprised if they awarded you Sainthood. You'll be making an Unbreakable Vow, and they can't punish you for avoiding death."

Hermione's eyes hardened. "You want me to make an Unbreakable Vow? You never mentioned that before, Malfoy."

"You expect me to take chances?" he asked, smirking at her patronizingly. "Ah, no," he said, noting her expression. "You hoped I'd take chances, would leave you loopholes."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, and her teeth began to worry her bottom lip again.

"Get over yourself, Granger," he said coldly. Any trace of amusement or playfulness had vanished. "I'm not some snot nosed eleven year old, or some newly initiated Death Eater quaking in his boots." He watched her eyes flicker to his arm.

"You will help me steal this necklace, and in return I will give you back your money. I will also tell the Ministry everything I know about my Aunt, and alert them every time I have a...reunion with her."

"You have to promise not to hurt me..."

Was that a shiver Draco saw? No, not Granger. He immediately discounted the thought. "And that will go both ways, Granger." He tapped his fingers on the desk.

"Now, all we need is a Bonder."

oOo

_May 26th, 10.43_

Ginny Apprated to the Zabini country house, feeling slightly...dirty about going behind Blaise's back. But she had her suspicions, and she had to find Hermione. Apologies and explanations could wait till later. Resolutely, she squared her shoulders as she stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off her robes.

"Binky," she called, summoning the Head House Elf.

The creature appeared before her, it's face wrinkling into a smile at seeing Ginny. She never found out what exactly she had done to make the creature so enamored of her.

"Binky, I need to know something important..."

Large yellow eyes widened as the House Elf slowly nodded.

"Was there a man here recently? A tall blonde man."

"Yes, Missus," the elf whispered.

Ginny froze.

"Was his name Draco Malfoy?" she demanded.

The elf seemed hesitant. "Yes, Missus Ginny," it whispered a second time.

Ginny closed her eyes for a second before opening them slowly. "Thank you Binky," she said warmly. "You're dismissed. Wait...if Master Blaise asks if this ever happened, don't tell him anything. And I forbid you to punish yourself."

"Yes Missus Ginny, will that be all Missus requires from Binky?"

oOo

_May 26th, 9.56_

There was a knock on his door. Severus Snape grimaced. He hated being disturbed; that was one of the reasons why so few people had his address. Making sure his potion was brewing as it was supposed to, he reluctantly stomped to go answer the door. Some things _had _been nicer with Wormtail around. He should consider getting a House Elf.

Hermione shivered. She had been immensely relieved when Malfoy had said they needed a Bonder. Anything to not be alone in his company any further. When his eyes turned cold, and his expression hard, she was reminded of just how big and how much of a man he truly was. And not to mention she was wandless, and trapped with a Death Eater inside his flat.

He glanced down at her. "He'll let us in in just a minute, Granger."

She only nodded, gritting her teeth to keep them from clacking together.

Snape was surprised enough by the two of him on his doorstep that he allowed both of his eyebrows to creep their way up his forehead.

"Come in," he said, opening the door just wide enough for them to squeeze through. He jestured to the coat rack, and Draco took off his leather jacket, but Hermione elected to keep Draco's oversized sweater on. Without a wand she couldn't shrink the clothes to fit her better, nor could she transfigure them into something else.

Snape led them to the sitting room, gesturing for both of them to sit."So...what may I do for you charming young people today?"

Draco sprawled on the couch, while Hermione sat primly in a chair close to the fire.

"We need a Bonder," he drawled, propping his feet up on the low coffee table..

Snape looked like he wanted to comment, but refrained. Instead, he ran a hand through his grey-black hair. "Ahh, I see. And how did you find yourself to be in the company of my charming godson, Miss Granger?"

She gave her old Potions Professor a dry look. She trusted Snape as she trusted any member of the Order, but she didn't know how far his loyalty would extend to her in this situation. Obviously, he liked Draco enough not to alert the Ministry or the Order of their maintained contact. He could hardly make it any worse than preforming the Bonding. "He kidnapped me."

"Oh. Was it that easy?"

Hermione glared at him for the barb whilst Draco chuckled. "I think the lack of fighting has made her soft, Uncle. Constant vigilance was not achieved."

Forgetting that she was frightened of him in her annoyance, Hermione reached over and smacked him as she would Harry or Ron for mocking her. Draco glowered at her as he rubbed his arm. "Touchy, touchy, kitten."

"Don't call me that," she hissed at him exactly like the feline he called her. Him using that bothersome name was even worse in Snape's presence.

"Why are you both making an Unbreakable Vow?"

Hermione answered before Draco could open his mouth. "So I can get away."

Snape looked in askance at his godson. "I require her assistance with something. Once she has completed the task, she will be aptly compensated."

"I...see." Snape said.

"Aptly compensated, my arse," Hermione groused as she rubbed her forehead.. "You'll be giving me back my own money, you pansy ass."

Snape turned his keen black gaze onto Draco. "You broke into Gringotts?"

Malfoy looked back at his godfather with cool gray eyes. "I was making my customary rounds and a took a few...liberties."

Snape leveled a long look at his godson. "I hope you didn't leave anything to be traced, idiot."

"Of course not," Draco droned. "What do you take me for?"

Hermione was pissed. Snape was at least supposed to be on her side, partially. "And you condone this perversion of nature around you, Professor?"

"Perversion of nature, that's a good one, Granger," Draco said sarcastically.

"Why yes, I do find time in which to tolerate him, Miss Granger."

"Merlin and Morgana, will you just bond us already?" Malfoy said, exasperation creeping into his baritone voice.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, being bonded to Malfoy was a very worrying subject. She knew it was a short-term arrangement, but it sounded and felt so... absolute. It made her feel out of control and helpless, which in turn made her angry. Hermione braced herself to go through with the Vow, Snap was obviously not going to assist her.

"Under one condition, Draco," Snape said steelily. "After this...you shall stop meddling in her life in such a manner."

"Fair enough," Draco nodded.

"Thank Merlin for small mercies," Hermione muttered.

"You will need to hold hands," Snape said calmly.

Draco held out his large hand, palm up. Hermione reluctantly placed her own hand in his. Snape pulled out his wand.

For a second, Draco had a rare moment of insecurity. Was this really the right way? The only way? Should he be forcing Granger, one of the most virtuous and righteous people he knew down to his level? Then all the doubts vanished, and Draco was once more focused on his goal.

"Do you, Hermione Granger, swear to assist me with the matter we have previously discussed to the best of your abilities?"

"I do."

A band of fire shot from Snape's wands and snaked around their wrists, prickling uncomfortably.

"Do you swear to never intentionally cause me harm during this enterprise?"

"I do," Hermione said again. This was uncomfortably reminiscent of a marriage ceremony.

"Do you swear to tell no one of this undertaking, unless I have previously talked to this person?"

"I do," she said again, sealing her fate. She cleared her throat.

"Do you, Draco Malfoy, swear to impart the matter we have previously discussed upon me once I have fufilled my vow?"

"I do." Draco watched Granger's downcast cinnamon eyes, her curls falling into her face as she held an oddly submissive pose.

"Do you swear to give the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Pheonix all of your knowledge considering one Bellatrix Lestrange and report to the Ministry any contact you have with her or information you acquire?"

Draco smiled wryly at her airtight voicing. "I do."

"Do you swear to release me once I have completed the stiuplations of my vow?"

"I do," Draco said.

"Do swear not to harm me during this farce?"

"I do," he said slowly.

"And so we do swear," the said automatically in unison. The bands of fire sunk into their skin.

oOo

**SOOOOOOO...what do you think. Of the plot, of Snape, of everything? REVIEWS ARE CUDDLED. Please leave me one.**


	4. Building Up

**This chapter is shorter than I'd like, but I figured I should post something after more than a year, so here! I have the next one almost written. **

oOo

_May 26th, 12.17_

Severus Snape glowered. Barely an hour after Hermione and Draco had left, and already there was another unexpected visitor on his doorstep. He was ninety nine percent positive it was someone from the Order of the Pheonix. He sighed. More lies and avoidances. Or explanations to a lot of prejudiced numskulls. When he opened his door, Nymphadora Tonks was revealed on his front step. Snape was pleasantly surprised, or as pleasantly surprised as he ever was. Besides her obnoxious cheerfulness and her tendency toward inappropriate jokes, Tonks was less annoying than most.

"Hullo," she grinned. Snape winced at her daffodil yellow hair.

"Do you mind if I come in? I've got some business to discuss…"

Making sure to frown ferociously, Snape stood aside and motioned for Tonks to step over the threshold. She followed him into the sitting room; ironically choosing the chair her cousin had been occupying earlier. He poured her a cup of tea, watching as she plopped two sugars into it.

"What urgent business do we have to discuss, Nymphadora?"

Her mouth twisted slightly at the use of her first name. After taking a sip of tea, she declared, "Hermione Granger is missing."

"I see." Snape sipped his tea.

"We strongly suspect that Draco was involved." Her dark eyes bored into him. She raised her own cup, her gaze never wavering as she took another drink. Snape did not glance away.

"Has he been in contact with you?"

She was answered by stony silence.

"Ah," she said delicately, setting her tea down. "I'll take that as a yes."

"He _is_ my godson," Snape replied, his chilly voice perfectly neutral.

"True. But it is still your duty to inform the Order." Tonks' reply was just as icy.

"I was not aware, Nymphadora, that my duties to the Order extended into my personal life."

"I would think that the priority of an Inner-Circle Death Eater on the loose would override that. You should have at least told Dumble-"

Tonks halted awkwardly, searching for the name of the new Order leader. "Ah, I mean Lupin," she amended as she quietly glowered.

Snape watched her hair begin to turn red in her anger. "It is my information to share, and I have chosen not to share it."

Tonks glared at him. "Hermione has gone missing."

"Really? I always thought that the job she chose was very…risky."

Tonks bristled. "You _know_ it has nothing to do with that, you old codger. Do not test me. Draco is my cousin…" Tonks trailed off.

Snape sharpened his figurative knives. "Estranged cousin."

The girl shrugged her shoulders. "Or so people think."

He stared into her currently dark brown eyes as the gleamed with amusement as his predicament as well as a keen intelligence. This was why he hated being cooped up. This week, Snape decided for himself, he was going to do some fieldwork. If only the clear up the massive amount of shit these imbeciles had managed to pile up in his absence.

"He would have told me."

"Oh, really? Why?"

"Why not?"

Tonks shrugged, and for a moment Snape saw the Black elegance which usually bypassed her. "I didn't think you'd approve," she said, eyes downcast.

"Whyever not?" he asked silkily. Tonks knew he was at his most dangerous, and this was also the most precarious part of her mission.

"I don't mean Draco any ill will, Severus. He's just a boy. If you can convince him to give back Hermione, completely unscathed, I'm sure I can wangle some kind immunity for him."

"He doesn't want immunity. His life is far better now than it would ever be among that lion's den."

"Oh, really? On the run from the Ministry and the Order, not to mention Bellatrix and those Russians?" Her tone was sharp.

"Even if I wanted too, I couldn't." Snape stood up, effectively dismissing his guest from his house. "You may leave with my assurances that Miss Granger is completely safe and I have no knowledge of her current location."

oOo

May 26th, 13.34

Hermione almost cracked her jaw with an enormous yawn as she blearily glared at the man-mountain seated across from her

She was sure she looked like hell. Her hair was messily piled atop her head and held together by a pencil stabbed into the rat's nest, and she was still wearing his ridiculously large clothes. Her eyes felt as though they were about to roll out of her head and plop, bloodshot and unblinking, on the table in front of her. Malfoy looked drawn and tired as well, but she was frustrated to find that it seemed to add to his sex appeal. The deep lines on his face, his golden stubble, his heavily lidded eyes all took him from modus opreandi of young and attractive to world-weary and attractive.

Just as she was mentally disparaging him, he leaned back and stretched his arms over his head, yawning hugely as he displayed a strip of toned stomach.

"This is…practically suicidal, Malfoy," she grumbled as she continued watching him draw different colored lines with his wand on the blue-prints, signifying the wards on Damocles Herrin's mansion.

When he stopped and began tapping his wand against the table she asked "Is that it?"

Malfoy just looked at her.

"No, those are just the wardings on the house. We haven't gotten to the ones on the gardens, greenhouses, stables, or individual rooms yet."

Hermione groaned, slumping down into a chair opposite his desk.

Malfoy nodded absentmindedly as he continued drawing multi-colored and now sparkly lines onto the plans, "I think he's more paranoid than Dark Lord was."

She was surprised to hear him reference his old master, but she was careful not to let it show. He had made key for his scribbles. Hermione picked it up and pretended to be absorbed by the dozens of different wards on the paper, carefully directing her mind away from the hippogriff in the room.

Minutes later Draco poked his wand at the piece of parchment Granger was studying, and she dropped it away from her face and back onto the table, irritation flashing in her eyes.

"Are you done _now_?"

"Yes, kitten, I am."

Her eyes flickered to diagrams, and they seemed to make her uneasy. "Why did you pick me for this again, Malfoy?"

He leaned back into his chair and lifted his feet onto the table, purposefully giving her the insolent look he knew made her bristle. "I don't believe I'm required to answer that question under the terms of our agreement."

She didn't disappoint, and he watched her bridle before she subdued herself. "May I have my wand back?" she inquired, her voice emotionless and icily polite.

Draco was surprised she hadn't asked for it earlier. He pretended to deliberate for a minute, just to anger her further. Her hair was practically bushing out in indignation when he finally gave his answer. "I s'pose I could return it to you."

"Well, will you?" she snapped.

He was pleased that he got a rise out of her. He didn't know why he got irrational pleasure out of pestering her when it made her far more difficult. Perhaps it was because she so easily lost what little control she had. Not only was it advantageous to see her emotions travel across her face, it was also strangely reassuring. Draco could see the lack of deceit in her. He was starved for honesty, and she was best at giving it to him.

Of course, Draco would never admit that. Ever Slytherin, a hypocrite to the end.

"Don't get your wand in a knot," Draco said said, rising lazily and walking over to safe he had installed behind one of his paintings. He laid his wand on the frame in order to scan it, and then typed in a seven digit code, shielding all of his actions from Granger's view with his body.

Her wand was next to bars of money and a velvet jewelry case. He took it out quickly, pushing the frame closed behind him. He began walking back to his desk, holding it in his hands. Draco let himself run his fingers over it, brushing off imaginary flecks of dust as he pretended to admire the design.

Granger was in his peripheral vision, sitting ramrod straight and rigid. She was practically vibrating with the need to have her wand back in her hands.

Draco grinned and held it out to her, handle first.

She reached for it slowly, as if afraid he would childishly yank it out of her reach. When she finally grasped it, fingers trembling slightly, he watched her relax before his eyes and practically hum with contentment. Draco felt oddly as if he had intruded on a private moment as he quickly went back to studying the bleu prints. A few blessedly Granger-bitching free minutes later, and she was watching him with a strangely speculative look in her eye. Draco straightened, and reached around to rub the prickling hairs at the back of his neck just before he heard a quiet whisper.

"Stupefy."

oOo

May 26th, 14.01

He really was glad that he had left some time to digest his lunch.

The hesitant test subject was strapped onto a partially submerged table, and had stopped thrashing only when the black eyes had rolled back into it's head and it had lost consciousness. Scanning the records, Damocles noted that Trail #078 had been successfully imbibing the potion for thirteen days, and were found, on the fourteenth, by their housemaid.

It was a gristly sight. Large, shallow sores had opened in all across the unfortunate merman's body. They were lazily oozing turquoise blood and a black puss. Precisely thirteen actually, from the one the size of a sickle above the man's right eye to the one the size of a quaffle on his tail.

After collecting some of the puss for testing, Damocles ordered his crew of house elf lab assistants to disinfect and bandage the body. Resignedly, he began composing a letter detailing the unfortunate occurrence to his prime business partner.

_Dimitri,_

_ I hope you are prepared for some unforeseen complications…_

Hopefully, the translation spell for Russian didn't turn the new encryption into illegible gibberish this time.

oOo

May 26th, 14.59

His hair was baby fine, she noticed, and had not darkened a shade since the first time she had set eyes on him at age eleven. Despite the platinum color, his eyelashes were long and dark enough to cast shadows on his fine cheekbones. His chin had mellowed it's point slightly. Somehow in the last ten years his face had slid from ratlike to masculine and strong boned. His icy pale skin and large grey eyes still gave him an almost fey quality.

There was nothing fey about his body, however. Sleek, compact muscle made long elegant lines. Everything was annoyingly perfect in it's proportions, she noticed. Broad shoulders, slim hips, long but not gangly legs; probably the result of generations of careful Pureblood breeding.

Self consciously, she swallowed.

Malfoy. She had just stupefied Malfoy. And was sitting with him, bound and unconscious, in her holiday cottage in France.

Of course, this was not in direct violation of their agreement. She had not _harmed_ him. Or divulged any information. But she could still feel the uncomfortable prickling of the vow around her wrist, warning her not to go much further.

Not as though it wasn't fair, she sniffed. He had done the same and much worse to her days earlier.

But now she was in a tough spot. Hermione Granger was well and truly stuck.

She still had to satisfy the terms of their contract, and although there wasn't a time limit, she was pretty sure she couldn't lock up Malfoy and put it off indefinitely. Not only did she need the contents of her vault back, she also needed to continue her semblance of a normal life ASAP.

Somehow, she had to notify the Ministry and her friends. Search parties trailing them to and fro just wouldn't do.

oOo

May 27th, 11.30

Blaise Zabini was a very wealthy young wizard.

The Zabinis were different from the strong Malfoy arrogance and English snobbishness. The Italians preferred a more subdued yet equally prideful persona. They had always been masters of the Triple P's: prudent, practical, and polite. The Triple P's were perhaps the main reason they could trace their lineage back to Nostradamus. Despite the Triple P's, their cleverness and lust for money eventually led to the to become involved in several legal gray areas over the decades.

Dragon breeding happened to be a legal grey area. In Uganda. Their compound had tripled the profit it was making in the last ten years, and had always been a reliable operation. Yet there had just been a daring theft of nearly three hundred kilos of dragon hide in transit to Morroco.

Nicolas Zabini, in charge of operations in Africa, had just fire-called his second cousin and unofficial head of the family in order to report.

Blaise liked Nicolas. He was smart and didn't have a stick up his ass like a lot of his extended Pureblood Italian family. Unfortunately, he did have an atrocious Sicilian accent to his Italian and it was giving Blaise a headache.

"No, no," he was explaining vehemently, "none of the locals have the wand power to overwhelm two of our own, a driver, and five of those tight-ass German mercs."

Blaise sighed. "Well, if it wasn't local, we have to assume it's someone from Perfect Potions or our other competitors gone shady, which none of our sources have given any indication of. I'll send in a team of experts to see if I can get any more magical traces tomorrow, as well as twenty more to help safeguard the station."

"Si, si. But I'm telling you, this was a pro job, bambino."

oOo

May 27th, 10.12

Draco had a terrible headache. And a crick in his neck. But he wasn't tied up, and the room smelled like bacon, so he let himself loll in his doze a bit longer. He probably shouldn't have over indulged in Fire whiskey and lavender mead at the pub last night…but last night he had been with pain the ass Gryffindor Granger outlining their plan of action. That…frizzy haired…Mudblood…harpy!

He sat up quickly, intent on finding her and throttling her. The quick ascent only succeed in making him dry heave as his head and stomach whirled.

Hermione watched him regain consciousness on her couch, sipping her cup of tea and trying to look calm. She could hold her own; the vow explicitly forbade him from harming her.

"There's some water for you. It'll help with your head and your throat."

He didn't reach for the water on the coffee table in front of him, instead lifting his head and glaring silver fire at her.

"What the _hell_ Granger? I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be all honorable and loyal and the rest of that sunshine and daisies shit," he croaked.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, I did survive the war you know. And hypocrisy will hardly help you in life. I had some business to take care of."

"Business? Your fucking business better not jeopardize me in any way or-"

"Of course it didn't, you thick-headed troll. I'm alive aren't I?" she interrupted.

He snarled wordlessly at her, but swallowed his pride and began drinking the water, too tired and too sick to argue.

"Not too fast. There's more if you want, and I cooked up some breakfast."

"I don't have to worry about Dreamless Sleep in my eggs, do I?"

"No."

"Where the hell are we?"

"My holiday cottage. In France."

He arched a brow.

"Harry's secret keeper."

Malfoy returned to elegantly but efficiently scarfing down the omelet she had cooked up.

"What day is it?" he asked between bites.

"The twenty seventh."

"Of May, I hope?"

"May, 2005. Did you know Damocles Herrin employs a veritable army of house elves?"

He grunted.

"Well, it just so happens that I might have some contacts which may help us infiltrate his fortress."

"Not remnants of that load of SPEW rubbish, I hope?"

"Shut your gob and eat your omelet, prick."

oOo

May 28th, 7.00

As Remus Lupin ate steadily from his plate of bangers and mash, he wished that Hermione Granger did not have friends that were so damned fond of her.

One of said friends was currently ranting about her predicament, his wild ginger hair sleep tousled as he gesticulated wildly and cursed ferrets. The other of said friends sat broodingly in a saggy chair, aimlessly twirling his wand around. Molly bustled around her kitchen, attempting to mother the obviously tired Order Members in her kitchen. But most disturbing was Ginny, who sat beside him at the table; white-lipped, pale, and uncommonly quiet. Lupin knew this had thrown an unpleasant shadow on her delicate but obviously important relationship with the Zabini boy. The Order was convening at an insanely early hour to accommodate those with regular nine-to-five jobs. All in all, it was just too much.

"I knew that wanker would be up to something," Ron grumbled.

Tonks blearily stirred her coffee before replying, "It's in the Black blood, to always be up to something."

Lupin cleared his throat and rapped his spoon on the table, quieting the room. As he opened his mouth, a silver otter swam through the air into the Burrow, landing with a plop on Molly Weasly's kitchen table. It's mouth opened, bringing filling the room with Hermione's clear dictation.

_Hello all,_

_I'm sorry I had some unexpected business to take care of. Don't worry, I'm perfectly fine and will be home before Easter. Please don't send the search parties. Molly, if you would be so kind as to give Harry and Ron some calming drought? You might have to tie them down to get them to listen. _

_Love always,_

_Hermione_

_Oh, and will someone ask Luna to feed Crooks for me? The emergency override password to my apartment is Tom Cruise. _

"Merlin and Morgana."

May 28th, 13.30

Pansy Parkinson was, as someone had once succinctly put it, 'a clever, heartless bitch'. And she was quite proud of it, thank you.

Because of her status as a minor during most of the war, and a lack of participation (due partly to common sense, partly to her innate sense of status) she had slipped through the machine of Ministry Justice with nothing more than a fine and a slap on the wrist. The slap on the wrist came in the form of a detection spell for dark magic on her wand as well as a charm that prevented her from saying the world 'Mudblood'.

She was not disgusted by The Minsitry. She was not disgusted by Voldemort.

She was disgusted by the appalling amount of _death_ during the war.

Her childhood friends had committed themselves to their parent's cause-and died. Her childhood enemies had opposed that cause-and died. They had been babies, she now realized as she looked back on those years. Barely out of school and still covered in acne. They should have been in the throes of first love and getting pissed on firewhiskey, not fighting a massive war of philosophical values.

Pansy had therefore grown up, not as predictably during the war, but just as well in it's aftermath. Without family and the cushion of Pure Blood superiority, she had used her brains for more than fashion and social plotting. As she clawed her way to success she also clawed her way out of depression.

Although her father had died fighting the Order, and her mother had subsequently lost her mind, Pansy had persevered. She sold off the dullest of the unused Parkinson estates and had invested the money wisely in the booming post-war economy. With more galleons than she could spend in her lifetime, and for the most part, she was mostly content.

She gave generously to charities of all kinds and was a public supporter of the Ministry and the newer social order, theoretically without blood-class. She had given many regretful and reformed interview, but the thing she regretted most was not the 'shameful naivety' or 'blind trust' of her Voldemort years, but it's cost. Many of her friends had died in the war-Crabbe, Macnair, Daphne Greengrass. Her relationships with these Death Eaters did noting to elevate her standing in the eyes of the new self-made elite.

Pansy was very lonely in the reformed wizarding world. She was too nervous among the Half-Bloods and Muggleborns with their TV and football and rap music to have a basis for friendship. Her old friends were either dead, incarcerated, or under house arrest. The first note from the missing Draco had filled her with joy, and she had gleefully maintained a correspondence with her delightfully Slytherin ex-fiance.

Sitting in her flat with an espresso and a chocolate croissant, Pansy scanned the latest letter as she planned her week.

_Pans,_

_I'm almost done. I've almost got the last ingredient…but I'll need help, and unfortunately, I'm going to have to use part of the Golden Trio. The part with breasts, no less. Not that anyone would notice those, when her face can scare the teeth off a troll at ten paces. She's been surprisingly easy to rile up, and I don't suspect I'll have any trouble securing her assistance in the matter._

_How are you? Did you finally dump that Goldstein twat? I told you he was gayer than a transvestite ballerina. Really, his pretty face shouldn't have been worth the trouble. _

_I'll write soon,_

_D.M._

A few days. It had been four without a gloating letter of success, and she was worried. For all her dislike of the Blood Traitor, the Bitch, and the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Annoy, she couldn't deny that they were a cunning lot with strong magic and stronger connections.

Pansy decided she needed information, and it was time she try out her feminine wiles on the least repulsive of the lot the Order of the Pheonix had to offer, simply because she didn't like being left in the dark.

And she had indeed broken up with Goldstein last week

And she was bored.

And Merlin curse it, she had never shagged a Gryffindor, and Padma Patil swore that they lived up to their liony namesake in the sack.

And with that, Pansy Parkinson headed off to Weasly's Wizarding Wheezes.

oOo

May 28th, 14.06

The otter had made it's way across England, and was now sitting in the Department of Magical Crime.

_Name: Hermione Granger_

_Ministry ID #66749_

_MEMO & NOTIFICATION OF ABSENCE:_

_Although this is an unfortunate time, I have a family emergency and will be in Austrailia the next two weeks. _

_However, I will be sending instructions and, as of now I would like:_

_-Caroline and Bobby to continue the list of the Addict's possible thefts._

_-Chimbero, Hammstein, and Wuthers to continue possible crime scene investigations._

_-Uthrey, Sarah, and James to handle all inter-office paperwork and such. _

_-Cassidy to narrow down the list of suspects._

_-The rest of you to handle any trivial matters that may come in._

_And all of you: DO NOT DO AUTHORIZE ANYTHING PAST LEVEL FOUR UNTIL I GET BACK. _

_Now get to work._

As the quick-notes quill finished taking down the notation, the otter dissolved into thin air, it's task complete.

oOo

May 28th, 21.33

Dimitri Mendelev had several thorns in his side.

Dimitri Mendelev disliked thorns in his side.

The first, of course, was Draco Malfoy. The Pureblood brat who had stolen the better part of his illegally obtained spell book collection last week.

The second, was the theft of a hundred kilogram shipment of gilly weed which had been hijacked in the Austrailian outback. Although Dimitri suspected that could easily be traced back to the Malfoy brat as well.

The third was the failure of his investment of thousands of British Galleons not paying it's due. Damocles Herrin was a brilliant wizard who had already achieved the impossible, but Dimitri needed progress. Progress which could easily be liquidated into gold. Running a Russian mob family required a steady influx of money; the lease on Babushka's mansion was due in a week.

There was a light knock on his door, and without waiting for an answer, the impertinent Anya strolled in, perching herself on his desk. Twirling a curl around her finger, she curved her lips into an inviting smile while her short skirt revealed a significant amount of thigh.

"Ahh, my Anya. How are you?"

"Perfect, sir" she purred in reply.

"Good, good." Dimitri became business-like. "Have you been working on Goyle?"

"Of course, just as you ordered. He's off in France to see his mother get remarried, and I told him grandmamma was sick and came back to report to you," Anya simpered. She leaned foreword to show off the deep shadow in her cleavage.

Dimitri ignored her, knowing she was trying because she was Anya and not because she had any real interest in him. Any interest she had lay with his money. He was too careful to ever sleep with her; after all he knew all the people that had been between those long, smooth legs.

"Besides," she pouted prettily, "he knows nothing about Zabini and less about Malfoy. I've been there almost three months, trying to pry it out if his thick skull. I swear, Dasha's ox is more intelligent. He's practically a waste of magic."

"Well, you're in luck. You've been reassigned. We're going to nip this at the bud, and your next…victim is Blaise Zabini."

Anya revealed her even, white teeth.

oOo

May 28th, 14.30

"My wand, Granger, what did you give that elf?" Draco murmured insolently in her ear, his tickling her neck.

Exasperated, she turned to glare at him. "I gave that elf _nothing_. Just an opportunity for freedom that she chose to take." Hermione was aware that her haughty sniff did not endear her to him. However, his arrogance and disrespect did not endear him to her either, and she childishly felt like returning the favor.

"Thank you, Vanna." Hermione smiled at the little elf as she was handed a cup of tea. The liberated House Elf's disconcerting outfit consisted of a children's Spongebob t-shirt and an large amount of green dragonhide.

"Miss is welcome," she replied, as she pushed Malfoy's tea into his hands with a dirty look before returning to perch on her own miniature chair.

Vanna was an elf that Hermione had freed during the war at a young age. The arrest of the head of the Greengrass family had resulted in the ministry acquiring many of his possessions, and an adolescent Vanna was the one elf Hermione had been able to persuade out of a life of servitude.

She had taken to it with an enthusiasm that had surprised even Hermione. After taking on paying job at Hogwarts for a year, the elf had purchased a small run-down cottage. Through a combination of magic and work the ramshackle house had been transformed into a cozy and self-sufficient home. Vanna's country house was beautiful; a stone path led to a blue door, fragrant flowers climbed to the thatched roof, and a vegetable plot and chicken coop completed the picturesque settlement. The whimsy of her home was in sharp contrast with Vanna, who was loud, brash and had an inordinate fondness for Muggle television. Although the elf was tiny by human standards, her personality was one of the biggest Hermione had ever encountered.

Hermione took a small sip of tea as she contemplated how to best broach the subject with Vanna.

"Mr. Malfoy and I are in the midst of a very dangerous…mission." She ignored the hacking cough that Malfoy had suddenly developed. The elf's huge eyes grew even larger, and Hermione knew she was on the right track. Thankful she taken the hint from the stack of DVDs by the telly, Hermione continued.

"There's a certain antiquity that we must…acquire. Your assistance in breaching the security on the premises is vital to the success of this mission…"

Hermione tried desperately to ignore Malfoy's coughing fits...and his thigh, pressing into hers on the elf-sized couch. She wondered if the tingle in her stomach was from fear or excitement, before hastily dismissing both.

oOo

May 28th, 13.14

The bell tinkled above the door as Pansy walked into the shop. A tad nervous, she sashayed over to the assembled merchandise. She hadn't been here since the end of sixth year when she had spiked Cormac McLaggan's pumpkin juice with a lust potion for Millicent Bullstrode. Pansy sighed. The things she did for her friends.

Making sure one of the Weasly twins stood at the counter; she had no idea which one and she honestly had no preference, Pansy stretched to reach a Daydream Charm on the top shelf, just beyond her fingertips. Aware that this caused her dress to mold enticingly to her very nice bum, she wasn't disappointed when a red-headed mischief maker materialized almost instantly at her side.

"Need help with that, miss?"

"Oh! Yes, please," Pansy demurred.

Easily, he reached up and grabbed the kit before casually remarking, "Say, don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Hogwarts probably. Pansy Parkinson." She held out a perfectly manicured hand.

He shook it almost bewilderedly, his own fingers warm and slightly calloused. "Sorry if I'm being blunt, but weren't you in Slytherin?"

Pansy gave a little laugh and attempted to look as innocent as possible, pushing out her cleavage to hopefully distract him.

"Oh, yes. Yes I was." Pansy's smile widened as his eyes glazed over just a tad.

"Hang on!" he exclaimed suddenly, "I remember you now…you were in Ron's year! You were always stuck on Malfoy like ugly on a troll.

She sniffed, piqued. "If you must know, at Hogwarts we were expecting the engagement to be announced any time soon."

A soon as the words escaped her mouth, Pansy mentally kickedherself. Mentioning past fiancés who happened to be mortal enemies was not how one initiated a seduction.

The previously affable red head sneered. "Well, we don't associate well with the Malfoys. Not well at all, right George?"

Pansy started as a mirror image, though missing an ear, appeared.

"No. If you'll just be leaving then?"

Pansy reached deep down into her Slytherin core. "Actually, I need to purchase this…My Aunt Gertrude is having a tea party tomorrow, and I have to go, but a room full of old harpies is just something I can't stand for a whole afternoon," she said with a delicate shudder.

Identical stony visages faced her. She narrowed her eyes.

"I thought you two useless buffoons had matured since Hogwarts. I came in a paying customer just to by this bloody charm, and I can't even buy it. Merlin and Morgana, it's been years! Things have changed! In case you haven't noticed I'm not exactly barging in here wearing Death Eater regalia shrieking about Blood Traitors and Mud-" Pansy choked, the Ministry curse cutting her off. It was by far the most irritating part of her punishment. She coughed.

"That was always more Bellatrix Black's spiel, anyway," she said lightly.

The twins gave her an even nastier look and Pansy became slightly exasperated.

"I was never even formally charged with anything but conspiring against the government. I was seventeen. Look," she said tiredly, "can I just buy this, please?"

As she pulled out two galleons and a sickle, Pansy realized she was facing her first real challenge in years.

oOo

**Reviews are always nice? :D**


End file.
